Rising to the Challenge
by IMTheresa
Summary: Young Sam witnesses a horrendous event and while dealing with the emotional aftermath, he and Dean must also face a supernatural danger.
1. Chapter 1

**Rising to the Challenge**

A/N: I was in a Wee!Chester mood, apparently, since this is two in a row. One is not dependent upon the other; timeframes are completely different.

Disclaimer: I don't own them, I just like to borrow them sometimes. And I know….I break 'em, I buy 'em. Hmmm….might be worth a little break…Just kidding.

ooooo

Living things have been doing just that for a long, long time. Through every kind of disaster and setback and catastrophe. We are survivors.

_Robert Fulghum_

ooooo

The locker room door slammed back against the wall.

"Hey!" the coach yelled from his office. He heard the ruckus and thought it was just the normal banter that went on after practice. But then he heard the shouting and the – was that a _gunshot_? It couldn't have been he thought as he took the few steps to his office door. "Oh my god…."

ooooo

Dean Winchester was on his way to the high school to pick his brother up after soccer practice when he heard the news on the radio. It didn't make sense – this was a quiet, small town. Not tiny like some of the places they'd lived, but he knew that a lot of people still felt safe enough not to lock their doors at night. Surely, someone had gotten the facts wrong Dean hoped as he raced toward the school.

He had to park almost two blocks away because of the emergency vehicles, news vans and random cars; not to mention the people milling around. Police had put up a barricade and it looked like the locals had already brought in back-up - Dean saw a few state police cars as he pushed his way to the front of the crowd.

"Hey!" Dean called to one of the cops. When he didn't get a response, Dean ducked under the wooden barrier. He was stopped almost immediately.

"No one's allowed in," the cop told him.

"My brother's in there!"

"Where are your folks?"

"It's just our dad and he's out of town," Dean said. "Come on, man, I'm 21." He was actually 18, but had an ID declaring him to be 21 if the cop wanted to push it.

"Hold on."

Dean wasn't overly patient as the officer used his radio to someone. He watched as a woman in a dark pant suit walked toward them a few moments later.

"This is Lindsey Cryer," the cop told him. "She's with the police department and coordinating things with the parents. Go with her."

Dean followed the woman to an area on the side of the school where other people had congregated. He'd asked questions as they walked, but she told him he'd have to wait. Looking around the group he was now with, Dean recognized some people from Sammy's soccer games. Everyone looked worried, and no one was talking.

"Where are the kids?" Dean asked the woman again.

"They're still inside," she told him. "We've taken them to another part of the school while the ones who are injured or….It's going to be a few more minutes until we have everything organized. I'm waiting for a list of the survivors."

"Survivors?" Dean repeated, feeling sick. "Some of the kids are dead?"

"Unfortunately, yes." Her tone was somber.

"How many?" Dean heard himself asking.

"I'm waiting for that information." She excused herself and spoke with a few of the parents before making her way back to the building.

Dean moved to the outskirts of the small group and dialed his brother's cell phone number. Sammy didn't usually turn it on when he was at school, but Dean had to try. He hoped that getting voicemail didn't mean anything bad.

Someone in a police uniform meandered through the group to collect names and phone numbers, and although it wasn't particularly cold, Dean was shivering when Lindsey Cryer came back almost 15 minutes later. There was another woman with her, but no introductions were made. It didn't take long for her to get everyone's attention, and once she had it, she called out the names of seven students and asked their parents to go with the newcomer.

"Where are they going?" someone asked. "You have to tell us something!"

Lindsey looked around the group. "It's going to be just a few more minutes. I'm sorry."

"You can at least tell us why they were taken away. Are their children hurt or….?"

"I…" Lindsey held up a hand as she reached into her pocket to pull out a ringing cell phone. She turned her back to everyone when she answered it. Dean was ready to make a break for it and look for Sam on his own when she turned her attention back to them. "Okay, I can take you to your kids now."

ooooo

Dean knew his way around the school even though he'd never been a student there and he recognized that they were being led to the teacher lounge. Lindsey paused outside the door and turned to face the group, finally telling them something. "Your children are inside. The parents whose kids needed medical care or….Your kids are all right. Scared, some have minor injuries, but they're all right. We have everyone's name, so you can take your kids home. We'll be in touch very soon."

As soon as the door was opened, Dean rushed inside with the parents. He saw Sammy sitting in a chair near the window, curled up as far as his legs would let him. As soon as he saw Dean, Sam jumped up and ran toward him, surprising him with a hug.

"Hey, it's okay, Sammy." Dean rubbed his back, feeling him shaking. "It's okay now."

Sam was always open with his emotions; he had been his whole life. When he was happy, he showed it and he was never shy to admit fear. Dean took half a step away and put his hands on Sam's face, looking at him closely. "You hurt?"

Sam shook his head. "I wanna go home, Dean."

Some of the kids were already being escorted out by their parents. Dean put his arm around Sam's shoulders and led him toward the door. He was sure that Sam didn't even notice the crowd they had to navigate through to get to the Impala.

Dean opened the car door for him and Sam got in, slouching as far down in the seat as he could, hugging himself. Dean crouched beside him and laid a hand on his leg. "Hey."

Sam looked at him, his eyes still wide with fear.

"We're gonna go home and you're gonna tell me all about what happened. But you're safe now, okay? Nothing is gonna happen to you."

Sam nodded and Dean patted his leg before standing up and pushing the door closed. As soon as Dean slipped behind the wheel, Sam scooted a little closer to him.

ooooo

"No, Dad, he's not hurt," Dean said into the phone as he paced in the living room. He and Sam had been home for almost an hour. "He hasn't said much about what happened yet."

"_Have you talked to the cops about it?"_

"Briefly at the school, but someone is supposed to get in touch. The school is closed for the rest of the week."

"_Any idea who did the shooting?"_

"From what I heard, it was a kid who was cut from the team, but that didn't come from the cops."

"_Where's Sammy now?"_

"He fell asleep."

"_Yeah, no wonder, poor kid. I know you can handle this, but I want to talk to the police."_

"Yes, sir."

"_Everything else all right? You doin' okay?"_

"Yes, sir, I'm fine. When do you think you'll be home?"

"_Probably another four or five days, but I'll be in touch. You can call if you need me, okay?" _

Dean was a little taken aback by the gentleness in his dad's voice. "I know."

"_Okay. I gotta go. Have Sammy call me when he wakes up, all right?"_

"Yeah, I will. Be safe, Dad." Dean dropped the phone onto the kitchen table, then went to check on Sam. He was curled up on his bed, arms wrapped around his pillow. Dean leaned against the door frame and watched him for several minutes.

ooooo

Dean had just gotten off the phone with a police officer when he heard Sam yell from the bedroom. He rushed down the hall to find his brother sitting up, his legs over the side of the bed, and his face in his hands.

"Sammy?" Dean made sure to get his attention before sitting down next to him.

Sam rubbed his face before looking at Dean. "Bad dream."

Dean put a hand on his back. "Hey, I just talked to a cop. He's going to come by in a couple of hours to talk to you."

"I already told them what I saw," Sam said, sounding miserable.

"Yeah, but you're probably going to have to talk about it a few times. And _I_ still don't know exactly what happened." Sam looked at him, profound sadness in his eyes. Dean clasped his shoulder. "You don't have to talk about it right now. Dad wants you to call him."

"He knows?"

"What doesn't Dad know, man?" Dean smiled.

"I just….I don't wanna keep talking about it. I see it in my head and…." Sam bent over, elbows on his knees, and covered his face with his hands.

Dean rubbed his back. He spoke to his brother in gentle tones, thinking it didn't really matter what he said. There were no words that would make Sam forget what he'd seen.

After several minutes, Sam straightened up. "I'm gonna get cleaned up before I call Dad. Can we order pizza?"

"Absolutely. I'll call it in now."

Sam nodded, then left the room.

ooooo

Sam flushed the toilet, washed his hands and splashed cold water on his face. He didn't know how long he stood bent over the sink – he heard the murmur of Dean's voice as he ordered the pizza, then the drone of a newscaster on the television. He couldn't hear the words clearly, but he knew what story was being reported.

Sam found himself in the living room a few moments later, standing behind the couch and staring at the television. He saw film footage of the crowd outside his school – a reporter talking to parents and students; kids who hadn't even been in the locker room.

Dean must have heard him breathing, because all of a sudden he flipped off the TV. "Sammy…."

Sam didn't understand why Dean looked so worried; why his brother led him to the couch and made him sit down. But then he realized he was shaking and tears were rolling down his cheeks. Dean sat next to him; Sam felt his arm around his shoulders, pulling him closer. Sam didn't resist and he didn't care if he was being stupid. He let Dean hold and comfort him.

He was more in control of himself when the pizza was delivered. He wasn't hungry any more, but he half-heartedly tried to eat a slice knowing that Dean was watching him. He appreciated that Dean was close, but giving him space. He wasn't ready to talk about what happened yet.

Dean wrapped up the leftover pizza and put it away while Sam pretended to watch a comedy on television. The phone calls had started. Dean answered every one – some were from the soccer team parents, some from teachers, and of course, the reporters. Someone even knocked on the door, but Sam went to his bedroom while Dean handled it. He heard the angry tone of his brother's voice, but not the words as he pushed the bedroom door closed.

Sam rolled onto his side on the bed and noticed the cordless phone on the bedside table. He reached for it, then dialed his father's cell phone number. He expected the call to go to voicemail and almost didn't respond when his dad answered.

"Uh, Dad? It's me."

"_Sammy….how are you doing?"_

"Okay, I guess."

"_Okay? Really?"_

It wasn't often that Sam wished for his dad to be home. He'd never seen anything Dean couldn't handle, and Dean was always there, but for some reason, right now Sam wanted his father.

"No," he whispered. "Dad, this is so messed up."

"_What happened, Sammy? All I know is –"_

"I don't want to talk about it. Dean says there's a cop coming soon and I have to talk to him, but…."

"_It's important to tell the police what happened, but if you're not ready yet…."_

"People keep calling," Sam said, as if he hadn't heard his father speak. "Dean talks to them, but the ringing….and someone's here. A reporter, I think."

"_It's okay, Sammy. Dean will take care of everything. If it gets too bad, just go to a motel. You don't have school for the rest of the week, so you can leave town if you want."_

"When are you coming home?"

"_I don't know. A few days."_

"Oh." Sam's voice was quiet.

"_Sammy…."_

He rolled over when he heard the bedroom door open. "It's okay, Dad," he said, seeing his brother's face. "I'll talk to you later."

ooooo

Dean sat on the couch next to his brother while the police detective asked Sam questions. Sam answered them using as few words as possible, his eyes trained on the floor. Dean had tried to end the interview a few minutes before when Sam started to cry, but Sam wanted to get it over with. He wanted the cop to leave and not have to come back. And he just wanted to pretend the day had been completely normal as he drifted off to sleep.

ooooo

"Our dad hadn't wanted him to play soccer," Dean said once all the detective's questions had been answered and Sam was in the bedroom. "But Sammy really wanted it, so I helped convince him. Now I wish I hadn't."

"You know this isn't your fault," the detective said. "There's no reason to think something like this will happen when you let a kid play a sport, ya know?"

Dean nodded. He liked this man, despite him being a cop. He looked like someone's grandfather.

"Some jackass who got cut from the team…" Dean shook his head as he thought over what he now knew had happened. "He gets cut from the team and decides he needs to _kill _people over it? Kill innocent kids? That is beyond messed up."

"Yeah, it is," the detective agreed. "And your brother is going to need some help to deal with it."

Dean looked at him, not wanting to have this conversation.

"When will your father be home?"

"He's working – it'll probably be a few days."

The detective reached into his pocket for a business card. "The school district is bringing some counselors in to talk to the boys who were in the locker room. You'll get a phone call soon, but in the meantime, if you need help, call this number. She works with the police department."

Dean took the card and put it on the coffee table before the detective held out another one. "And this is my number. Have your dad call me and feel free to use it if you need anything."

Dean took that one as well. "What happened to the shooter?"

"He shot himself after killing the coach."

"He's dead?"

Ramsey nodded. "Yeah. Dead on the scene."

Dean shook his head. "Beyond messed up, man."

ooooo

Sam was plagued by nightmares all night, and every time he woke up, Dean was at is side. It was around 6:30 in the morning when Sam gave up trying to sleep. He quietly got out of bed and put the blanket over Dean; he'd not made it back to his own bed after Sam's last dream.

After a stop in the bathroom, Sam grabbed a soda from the refrigerator and sat at the kitchen table. He felt like an idiot – a weakling. Weakness was not something tolerated in the Winchester family and Sam realized that he was relieved his father wasn't going to cut his hunt short to come home.

Sam knew he could handle this; he just needed to wrap his head around it first. And Dean would be a lot more understanding than their father would be. At least lately, Sam mused. He wondered, not for the first time, if something had happened to make their dad so unrelenting. He hadn't always been like this….

_Sam woke up with the last images of the dream fresh in his mind. He immediately looked to the next bed where his brother should be, but Dean wasn't there. Then he remembered. Dean was with some of the other big boys from his school._

"_Daddy!" Sam called, unable to calm his fears alone. "Daddy!"_

_It wasn't very long before his father was sitting on the side of the bed, pulling him onto his lap. "What is it, Sammy?"_

"_I had a bad dream."_

"_You know dreams can't hurt you, right?"_

_Sam nodded against his father's chest._

"_What did you dream about?"_

"_A big monster was after me."_

"_Where were you?"_

"_In the woods."_

"_You'd never be in the woods all alone, Sammy. You know that Dean and I would always be with you."_

"_Uh-huh." Sam felt his father softly kiss his head and he looked up at his smiling face. "When I get big like you, you and Dean won't always have to be with me."_

_John kissed him again. "But we will always make sure you're safe. You want some warm milk before going back to sleep?"_

"_Uh-huh. And a story?" he looked at his father with a shy grin._

"_A story, huh?" John hugged him. "Yeah, I think a story is a good idea."_

Sam rubbed his eyes and stared out of the kitchen window.

He had no idea how much time had passed when he heard Dean's footsteps behind him. He felt his brother's hand on his shoulder before he walked past and started the coffee brewing. A moment later, Dean was sitting across from him at the small table.

"Hey."

"Hey," Sam said.

"How long have you been out here?"

Sam shrugged. "I have no idea."

"You had a rough night."

"Yeah, you, too. Sorry."

Dean waved it off. "You wanna talk about it?"

"No."

"Ya know, --"

"I said no, Dean," Sam was irritated and too tired to hide it.

"Yeah, okay." Dean sat back in his chair.

Sam looked around the room. He was used to living in cheap places and it didn't usually bother him. He had what he needed and he loved his family. But right now, nothing looked good to him and nothing was going to make him happy. He couldn't get the image of what he'd seen yesterday out of his head and he didn't know how to deal with it.

"This place sucks," Sam said glumly. "I hate the worn paint and the used furniture. Why can't we ever have anything nice?"

"Come on, Sammy, you know why –" Sam's glare stopped Dean. He looked at Sam for a long moment before standing up and pouring himself a cup of coffee. "You want some?"

"No." Sam voice was quiet.

Dean turned around and leaned back against the counter. "How about we get out of here? We can jump in the car and go somewhere for a while – we can start with breakfast and maybe a movie?"

Sam thought about it. Anything would be better than sitting around the shabby house. He nodded. "Yeah, okay."

"Why don't you take the first shower and I'll mainline some caffeine?"

Sam stood up and left the kitchen without a word.

ooooo

Sam suggested they get on the highway and stop for food later. Dean suspected he didn't want to run the risk of bumping into someone he knew. The whole town knew what had happened the day before, and any kid Sam's age could be the target for a reporter or just someone a little too nosey. The news no doubt had reached nearby towns, too, but there'd be less reason for anyone there to think Sam knew anything about it.

Dean hadn't driven very far when he glanced toward the passenger side of the car and noticed Sam had fallen asleep. He turned down the radio volume a little, and settled back against the seat. It was no surprise his younger brother was able to sleep in the car – he'd gotten a lot of practice doing just that over the years. Dean silently hoped the dreams didn't plague him here, too.

Sam jerked awake half an hour later. He sat up and looked around. "Where are we?"

Dean glanced at him, trying to determine if he'd had another nightmare. "East of home. That's about as accurate as I can be because I haven't really been paying attention."

"Sorry I fell asleep,"

"It's okay. How ya doin'?"

"No dreams."

"Good. That's something. I'm gonna stop at the next place for food, okay?"

"Yeah, okay."

The next place turned out to be a fast food restaurant 10 miles down the road. Sam didn't protest, so Dean parked and they went inside. There weren't many other customers, so after getting their food, they almost had their pick of places to sit.

Dean couldn't help but notice that Sam picked at his burger without actually taking a bite from it, but he didn't say anything about it. He tried to start a light conversation, though Sam's one-word responses made it difficult. It didn't take long for them to lapse into complete silence.

He had never seen anything like Sam had seen yesterday and wasn't sure how to help his brother deal with it. He knew how their dad would feel about Sam talking to a counselor, but Dean was beginning to think that wouldn't be such a bad idea. He was still thinking about it when his cell phone rang a few minutes later.

There was no way to disguise that the call was about Sam and as soon as he realized it, Sam left the table. Dean watched as he went toward the bathrooms at the back of the restaurant. The call was over before Sam came back.

"Well?" Sam demanded, looking at Dean with hard eyes.

Dean cleared his throat, knowing that Sam wouldn't like what he was about to tell him. He steeled himself for Sam's anger and met his stare. "All the guys from the team are supposed to meet with a counselor tomorrow to talk about what happened as a group."

"No."

"Sammy, come on. You'll be there with other people who went through the same thing."

"No."

"You have to do this,"

"Are you going to _order _me?" Sam asked, his sarcasm blatant.

"No," Dean said, not missing a beat. "But I really want you to give it a shot. Do it for me."

Sam's face softened. "Dean, please."

Dean hated the plaintive sound of his brother's voice almost as much as he hated to see the fear in his eyes. "You gotta talk to someone about this, man. And it makes sense to talk to the other people who saw it."

"You don't understand," Sam said quietly.

"You're right. I don't understand it. That's why –"

"No. Not…not what happened. At least…." Sam sighed, sounding frustrated and stood up quickly, walking out before Dean could stop him.

In a rush, Dean gathered their trash and followed Sam, finding him pacing next to the Impala. Dean saw Sam glance toward him, but he didn't stop moving. Dean leaned back against the trunk and watched his brother. It was several long moments before Sam spoke. "I'm not like those other guys and you know it.'

"But you all saw the same thing."

"But I'm not _like _them! I know more than they do, I've had training that they haven't had."

Dean was beginning to grasp what Sam was feeling. "You think you should have been able to do something."

Sam finally stopped pacing and stood in front of Dean. His expression told Dean he'd guessed correctly.

"Sammy, your training is for ghosts and --" He grabbed Sam's shoulders when he tried to turn away. "Neither one of us has had training to deal with something like this. The guy had a gun, Sammy. More than one, according to Detective Malloy. What could you have done up against that?"

"I don't know," Sam admitted, miserably.

"Sammy, come on," Dean loosened his grip on Sam's shoulders, but still maintained contact.

"I know Dad's disappointed in me."

Dean was confused. "What? Did he tell you that?"

"You know it, too."

"I do not," Dean insisted. "Where is this coming from?"

"I failed, Dean. I should have been able to do something, but I didn't."

"Tell me what you could have done differently," Dean said as Sam pulled away and began to pace again.

"I…" Sam looked at him, then turned away, still moving.

"Sam?"

"I could have done something other than freeze up!" Sam leaned against the Impala and Dean moved to his side.

"You wanna tell me what really happened now?" Dean asked softly.

Sam didn't respond, but Dean saw he was shaking. He put a hand on his shoulder and led him to the passenger side door. "Get in." Sam didn't resist.

Dean slid in behind the wheel, but turned so that he could look at Sam. He put his arm on the back of the seat almost close enough to touch Sam's shoulder with his fingers. After a moment, Sam turned and rested his back against the door.

"Talk," Dean told him.

"It all happened so fast. The door slammed against the wall and Toby walked through the room – I heard the first gunshot before I saw him. I knew it was a gun, but I couldn't believe it, you know?" Sam looked at him with tears in his eyes. "I mean, I know what a gun sounds like, but this was _school_, man."

"Yeah," Dean agreed quietly. "So what did you do?"

"Nothing," Sam snorted. "I _froze_. Worse, I dove under the bench and covered my head with my arms while Toby shot…_killed _seven people."

Dean touched Sam's arm, but moved his hand away when Sam flinched.

"Listen to me," Dean said, his voice quiet but firm. "Sometimes all you can do in a situation is protect yourself. No matter how much training we go through, no matter how much we know, sometimes there's just nothing else we can do. You're not Superman, okay? You're not faster than a speeding bullet. In this situation, you're just like those other kids."

Sam looked at Dean, almost hopefully. Dean knew Sam wanted to believe him, but he couldn't quite manage it. Dean reached out to touch him and this time, Sam didn't resist.

"I don't know, Dean."

"Yeah, well, I do. And since I'm older, I have to be right." Dean smiled at his brother.

"Yeah?" Sam's voice was small.

"Yep." Dean nodded confidently.

"What time is that appointment tomorrow?"

Dean's smile broadened. "Ten in the morning."

Sam took a deep breath and nodded. "I'll go."

Dean nodded. "Well, all right."

ooooo

The brothers were home by early afternoon, after spending time in an arcade. Sam ignored the games that involved battles and zeroed in on a racing game. He'd been happy to beat Dean a couple of times and he crowed about it all the way home.

Dean had needed to field a few more phone calls on Sam's behalf, but after a while he started letting them go to voicemail. Sam sat on the couch next to him while they listened to the messages on the cell phone's speaker, and they agreed to ignore the majority of them.

Sam was dozing in the recliner when he heard Dean's phone ring sometime later. He opened his eyes to see that Dean was asleep on the couch and didn't seem to hear it. He was going to ignore it as well, but decided to answer it at the last minute.

"Hello?"

"_Sammy? Hey, it's Dad."_

"Hey, Dad," Sam was relieved it wasn't a cop or someone from the school.

"_How ya doin'?"_

"All right."

"_How'd you sleep last night?"_

Sam thought about his answer for a moment. He couldn't blatantly lie, even about something as insignificant as this, but at the same time he felt his father's disappointment. "Not so great."

"_I'm sorry, Sammy."_

"Dean kept waking up with me, so it wasn't so bad." Sam didn't want to talk about it any more. "How's your hunt?"

"_I've had better. I'm hitting a lot of dead ends. I was thinking I'd just hang it up for now and come home."_

"You don't have to do that," Sam said quickly. "I mean, things are okay here."

"_Yeah, well, we'll see. I'm working another lead now."_

Sam glanced at Dean when he came into the kitchen. He looked at Sam questioningly.

"Hey, Dad, you wanna talk to Dean?"

"_Yeah, thanks. Hey, Sammy?"_

"Yeah, Dad?'

"_It's all gonna be okay. I love you, Son."_

"Thanks, Dad. I love you, too."

Sam handed the phone to Dean, then left the kitchen.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

ooooo

The easiest period in a crisis situation is actually the battle itself. The most difficult is the period of indecision -- whether to fight or run away. And the most dangerous period is the aftermath. It is then, with all his resources spent and his guard down, that an individual must watch out for dulled reactions and faulty judgment.

_Richard M. Nixon_

ooooo

Sam sat in the Impala the next morning, staring at the building in front of him. He didn't want to go inside; he didn't want to sit around with the rest of the soccer team talking about the shooting. He'd slept better the night before, but he'd still had a few nightmares. And just like the previous night, Dean had gotten up with him every time.

"You gotta go in, Sammy."

"I know." Sam watched as one of his teammates walked past the car with his mother.

"I'm going in with you, ya know."

"You are?"

Dean looked at him. "Of course I am. I was gonna do it anyway, but have you seen one kid walk in there alone?"

Sam shook his head.

"Come on," Dean opened his door. He took a few steps toward the building, then turned around to look at his brother. Sam stared at him, then got out of the car and walked into the building with him.

Sam got checked in and was directed to a room down the hall. Dean was supposed to wait with the parents in another room, but Sam was glad he made sure he got to the right place first.

"You can do this, Sammy," Dean said earnestly. "Just remember that you're no different than anyone else here, okay? You all saw something horrible and no one could be expected to do any more than what you did."

Sam nodded. "Thanks, Dean."

"I'll see you afterward, okay?"

"Yeah."

ooooo

Dean wasn't any happier about having to sit in a room with the parents than Sam was about his appointment with the soccer team. He hadn't expected they'd have their own counseling session, but when it was over, he had to admit it had been worthwhile. Besides, he'd do anything for Sam and if this would help him, he didn't mind. Much. He was a little annoyed that their father hadn't come back to help handle the situation, but he tried not to think about that. He believed there was nothing that Sam needed he couldn't provide himself.

The mood was somber as the soccer team left the room they'd been in for the last hour. They joined their families and everyone headed to the parking lot as a group. Some of the boys walked together, but Sam stayed close to his brother.

"How'd it go?" Dean asked once they were back in the Impala.

"All right. We're supposed to meet again next week. The counselor is going to come to the school and we'll do that instead of soccer practice."

"Yeah, that's what we were told. You think it's going to help?"

Sam shrugged. "Maybe. What did you have to do?"

"Another counselor talked to us about what happened and what we could expect. He wanted Dad here instead of me, though."

Sam looked alarmed.

"Dad knows about this, Sammy. He thought it was a good idea."

"Really?" The surprise was evident in his voice.

"He's not disappointed in you. He knows what a crap thing this was, and he wants to make sure you get through it okay."

Sam nodded, then turned away.

Dean squeezed his shoulder before starting the car. They talked about the other things that had been discussed in their respective meetings as Dean drove toward their house. The school was going to open the next morning so the soccer team could get anything they'd left behind if they wanted to, and a memorial service was planned for the weekend in advance of the individual funerals.

Once they were home, they went about their own business. Dean called work to talk to his boss for a few minutes and make sure it was still okay for him to take off until Monday. Afterward, he got caught up on some of the car magazines he liked to read. Sam went into their room and busied himself on the computer.

Later, Dean insisted Sam needed to get out of the house for a while, so they went to one of their favorite places for dinner. Dean noticed that Sam was less morose than he had been, but was still keeping an eye out for people he might know. Dean didn't expect Sam to move past what had happened quickly, but was glad to see he seemed to be getting better. He hoped the night would be more restful for both of them.

Dean got his wish. Sam's sleep wasn't completely nightmare-free, but it was a much quieter night.

The next morning, Sam wasn't sure he was ready to go back to the school. He told Dean there was nothing there he particularly needed since all homework assignments had been delayed until the following week. Dean was willing to let him make his own decision on the matter, but thought it was a positive sign when he decided to go.

All the team members had been instructed to meet at the door of the locker room near the field. Dean drove to the back parking lot, and parked near the rest of the cars already there. He glanced at Sam, who was looking toward the boys standing near the door. There were also some apart from the group and others still arriving. Some parents had come as well and were either standing with their child or with other parents.

"You okay to do this?" Dean asked when Sam didn't move.

"I have to do it eventually."

"Yeah, but –"

"I'm here. May as well see it through."

Dean was taken aback by how much his brother had sounded like their father. He left the car with Sam, but agreed to wait on the sidelines. Sam joined the group of boys, nodding a greeting as he did. No one seemed to be saying much of anything and Dean stood apart from everyone, with his hands deep in his pockets.

It wasn't long before the school principal and guidance counselor joined them. The principal said that the police had gotten everything they'd needed from the locker room and it had been professionally cleaned. There would be no evidence of what had happened there, except for some of the boys' belongings being laid out on tables or benches. The lockers had been left in tact, but everything else had to be moved for the cleaning.

When the counselor opened the door, some of the parents were going with their children, others not. Dean caught Sam's eye just before the boys were led inside and could tell he'd not changed his mind about going inside alone.

ooooo

Sam stayed near the back of the group as they filed into the locker room. He was very close to changing his mind and just running away, but he refused to give into the fear. He knew there was nothing in that locker room to be afraid of – the danger was past and the physical reminders cleaned away. Nonetheless, he had to shove his hands into his jacket pockets because they were shaking so badly. He paused just before crossing the threshold, glancing over his shoulder for another reassuring nod from his brother.

The room was virtually silent as Sam walked past some of his teammates to get to his locker. He kept his eyes on the floor, not daring to look to the places where he'd seen his classmates shot. Standing in front of his locker, Sam was sure he'd left it open, but figured they'd all been closed by the cleaning crew, police or school employees. It didn't really matter, anyway. He stared at the combination lock for several moments before garnering the courage to take his hands from his pockets.

He glanced around and everyone else seemed to be facing the same issues he was. Sam thought back to their counseling session – some of the kids had been more than willing to admit how afraid they'd been and how it was affecting them. Others wouldn't come out and say they were suffering, but Sam knew they were. He hadn't wanted to talk, but he'd listened intently.

The principal and guidance counselor walked through the room, and Sam knew they were trying to lighten the mood and help the kids deal with their fears. The counselor they'd seen outside of school had been scheduled to be there, but the principal had explained she'd had an emergency to deal with and couldn't make it.

Sam didn't want to talk to anyone and knew the only way to avoid it was to get his stuff and get out. It took him three tries to open his locker because his hands were still shaking, but he quickly grabbed his backpack and took a look to see if there was anything else he needed. He noticed some of the other boys were already leaving and Sam hurried to walk out with them. He figured if he was in a group, he wouldn't be singled out by the teachers.

As soon as he was back outside, Sam felt like he could breathe easier. Without even thinking about it, he wandered to the group of his teammates that were gathering between the parking lot and the building. The topic of conversation was the memorial service scheduled for the next day. Some were not planning to go, which surprised Sam, but he wasn't going to try to change their minds. He'd never considered not going – it was just the right thing to do.

Sam felt like he was on the outside, but that wasn't unusual. He rarely finished the school year in one place and even when he was somewhere more than a few months, he didn't really make friends. He sometimes got included in a group, like the soccer team, but he never let anyone get too close. There was no point when he had so many secrets to keep and wouldn't be around that long anyway.

And he'd heard what Dean said – despite all his training, he couldn't have done anything to stop Toby. Sometimes all a person could do was protect himself. But that wasn't how Sam felt. He still thought there should have been something he could do, but there wasn't anyone he could talk to about that. Dean would just say the same thing again, and talking to a counselor about it was impossible because he couldn't let on about the things he knew.

But still, it was comforting to be near the people who had gone through the experience with him. He looked toward the parking lot and saw that Dean was talking to one of the parents. Sam recognized her – it was Mrs. Hollis, Grady's mom. Grady was one of his friends – or as close as Sam ever got to a friend. They had several classes together and often studied at one another house for tests.

Grady had smiled at Sam tightly as he walked past to his own locker, but that had been the extent of their contact. He looked around for the other boy now, and saw him coming out of the locker room a moment later. Sam stepped away from the group he'd not quite joined and walked toward Grady.

ooooo

Dean hadn't recognized the woman when she approached him, but he'd known her son's name when she said it in her introduction. He'd met Grady several times when he came over to study with Sam. Dean had even given him a ride home from school a few times.

He wasn't sure how he felt about her invitation to join the family on Sunday for a barbeque, but he'd go if Sam wanted to. Mrs. Hollis had understood him wanting to talk to Sam first. He thought it would be good for Sam to spend some time with Grady, but he certainly wasn't going to push him. Too many things were being decided for the entire team right now, and Dean didn't want to add to that. Sam was sensitive enough about his decisions being made for him – their father made unilateral pronouncements all the time and while it never really bothered Dean, he knew how much Sam hated it.

Dean got Mrs. Hollis' attention when he saw Sam and Grady standing together away from a larger group. They watched, pretending not to, while the two boys talked for a few moments.

"I told Sam about the barbeque," Grady said when he and Sam approached them.

"What do you think, Sam?" she asked with a smile.

Sam looked at Dean, then back to his friend's mother before answering. His voice was quiet when he said, "I think it sounds good."

"Great," she said, putting a hand on his shoulder. "Come by any time after 2:00 and we'll eat around 3."

"Yes, ma'am. Thank you."

"We'll see you both then," Mrs. Hollis said, moving her hand to Grady's shoulder.

"And at the memorial service tomorrow," Grady added.

"Right."

They spoke for a few more moments before walking to their respective cars.

"Do you mind going to the barbeque?" Sam asked his brother as Dean drove toward their house.

Dean glanced at him sideways. He didn't want to go, but he didn't mind. "No, it's fine."

"Thanks. And you'll go to the service with me tomorrow?"

"Of course." Dean had never intended to let Sam go alone.

"People are gonna dress up."

"Like in suits?"

"Some, but Grady is gonna just wear dress pants and a dress shirt."

Dean nodded, a little surprised that wardrobe had been a topic of discussion. "I know I'm covered, but we'll have to check for you. I doubt what you have still fits." Sam slouched in the seat. "You okay?"

"I just with this was all over. Has Dad called today?"

"Not yet. You can call him if you want."

"That's okay. Are you going out tonight?"

Even when their father was on a hunt, Dean usually hung out with some of the guys from work for a while. They had a few beers while playing pool and darts; and sometimes Dean collected phone numbers occasionally going home with some girl. Sam was used to being by himself on Friday nights or making his own plans with Grady or other guys from school.

"I wasn't going to. Did you and Grady make plans?"

"No. Can we go to a movie?"

"Yeah, sure."

"Can we go to the theater in Benton?"

Dean glanced at him again. "You want to go 20 miles to a theater? Why?"

Sam looked at him miserably.

"You don't want to run into anyone. Sam, it's okay, you know. People aren't going to harass you."

"I guess," he said quietly.

"We'll go to Benton if you want. It's fine."

"You sure?"

"Absolutely." Dean tried to sound confident. He didn't mind the drive, but he didn't want Sam to get used to living in fear of seeing people he knew.

"Thanks, Dean."

"You're welcome." Dean pulled into the driveway outside their house. "Let's check for clothes for you, okay? I wanna know if we're gonna have to buy something."

ooooo

"I don't really know how he's doing, Dad," Dean said into the phone. He and Sam had been home from the movie for just a few minutes and Sam was getting ready for bed. "He's dealing, I guess, but it's not easy. The school is setting up counseling sessions….there's a memorial service tomorrow. It's just a lot."

"_What about you?"_

"I'm just winging it. I've been letting Sammy do pretty much what he wants to."

"_You usually do."_

Dean was worried until he heard his father's chuckle. "It's just…I don't think it's a good thing to push him right now."

"_It's fine, Dean. I know you can take care of your brother. No one does it better."_

Dean appreciated the compliment and he never minded looking out for Sam, but there were things going on that he would prefer their father be around for. He'd never asked him to come home from a hunt early before, but he wanted to ask him now.

"_I talked to the detective handling the case and he told me it's all but closed. There's nothing left for them to since the shooter killed himself."_

"Yeah," Dean said running his hand over his head. "The legal stuff is over, I guess. I overheard some of the parents are going to try for a civil suit against the school or something. I didn't hear everything."

"_Well, stay away from that stuff."_

"We will. It's not the school's fault this kid was a whack-job. I had to get Sammy some clothes for the memorial service. His dress clothes didn't fit any more and I didn't have anything to give to him."

"_That's fine. You know you can get what you need. Tell me the truth, Dean. Are you all right?"_

Dean had no intention of letting his father down, and that's what he'd be doing if he admitted he was feeling overwhelmed. He figured if he just listened to the experts, and did what they thought Sam needed, he would get over what he'd seen. "Well, you know, it's a lot, but I'm okay."

"_Look, things here are pretty much at a standstill. I was thinking I'd head home in the morning, but it'll still take me a day or so to get there."_

Dean was relieved, but tried not to sound it. "That would be great, Dad."

"_Okay. I'll call you from the road before the memorial service."_

"Okay."

"_Have Sammy call me before he goes to sleep tonight."_

"Yes, sir." Dean put his phone on the coffee table and Sam walked into the living room a few minutes later. "Dad wants you to call him."

"Why?" Sam dropped onto the couch next to him.

"Sammy, come on," Dean said. "Hey, he's coming home."

Sam looked at him. "Yeah?"

Dean nodded. He could feel the negativity and frustration coming from his brother even though he'd seemed fine when they'd been out.

"I don't know if I want him here."

"Sam, this is his house, too."

"Yeah, but he's just gonna ride me to get over –"

"No, he's not. Where's this coming from, Sam?"

Sam only shook his head.

"Hey, it was an okay night, right? The movie was good, the burgers were good. Don't freak out just because Dad is coming home."

"It's not that. Not really."

"You worried about tomorrow?"

Sam nodded.

"You don't have to do anything. You just sit there and listen."

"Have you ever been to a memorial service before?"

Dean cleared his throat. "No, I guess I haven't. I'll be there with you if that helps."

"You know it does," Sam said quietly, not looking at him. "I'm gonna call Dad and then go to bed."

"Yeah, okay." Dean stood up and tossed his phone to Sam. "I'll be in the back."

ooooo

Sam didn't sleep well that night, but it had nothing to do with nightmares. He didn't sleep enough to have any. He was worried about the memorial service – he didn't know what to expect, but he knew he didn't really want to be around the other students. The ones who hadn't been in the locker room would probably have questions and would want to talk about what had happened. For the first time that Sam could remember, he was glad to be on the outside. Maybe no one would try to talk to him about it.

Dean was snoring lightly in the next bed, and Sam listened to him as all sorts of thoughts floated through his head. He realized he felt guilty for not wanting their father to come home, but couldn't deny the truth. He loved the man, but he'd changed in the last few years and Sam didn't like this new version of him. He was hard and he could be very mean. John Winchester had never been a pussycat, but he used to be more understanding and seemed to care more about him and Dean than he did now.

He'd sounded more like his old self when Sam had called him earlier, and Sam knew he should appreciate it, but he was nervous about how he'd be treated once his dad was home. Dean said he wouldn't push Sam to get over what he'd seen, but Sam wasn't so sure.

Sam looked at the clock on the nightstand between the beds and saw it was just before 2 am. Frustrated, he got up and padded across the hall to the bathroom. In the kitchen, he filled a glass with water and stood at the back door while he drank it.

Through the dirty window in the door, he could see the street beyond. Two of the dead soccer players lived on that street and Sam wondered about their families. He hadn't known the boys very well – he didn't even know if they had brothers and sisters – but he knew they had parents who were missing them.

Sam was surprised to see someone walking down the street so late. He watched idly for a moment before realizing there was something familiar about the person. After setting the glass on the counter, Sam opened the door and walked into the back yard for a better view.

"No way," he breathed. After a brief hesitation, Sam ran into the house calling his brother's name.

ooooo

"Sam, we've been out here for over an hour," Dean said as paused on the street corner. "There's no one –"

"I saw him, Dean."

"I'm not saying you didn't," Dean said quickly. "But he's gone now."

"Why would Coach McGraff's ghost be wandering around here?" Sam asked.

"You said two guys from your team live behind us."

"Lived. They're dead."

Dean nodded, having a hard time keeping everything Sam had told him straight. He'd woken up quickly when Sam came into their room yelling for him, but he hadn't slept much in days and it was catching up to him. "Right. I…I don't know, Sammy. Are you sure –"

"Don't ask me that again," Sam said, sounding more tired than angry.

"I'm not doubting you, Sammy, I'm not. But it was late, dark, and our house is kinda far from this street."

"Ghosts do just disappear, you know."

"Yeah, you're right."

Sam heard his brother's irritation, slight as it was. He looked around. "Let's go home. We've done all we can for now."

Dean put his arm around Sam's shoulders, and they walked back to their house in silence.

"I saw him, Dean. I swear." Sam said a few minutes later as he sat on the edge of his bed. He kicked off his shoes and flung them across the room, clearly frustrated.

"Like you said, ghosts disappear. I don't know why the coach would be around here, though. His house, sure. The school even. But here?" Dean shook his head as she sat on his own bed. "But it's not impossible. There could be something around here that's important to him. Maybe he was checking on his team."

Sam chewed his thumb as he thought about the possibilities. A short time later, he felt Dean kick his leg gently. "Let's try to get some sleep, okay?"

Sam agreed, but he didn't think it would happen. At least not for him.

ooooo

It took Sam a long time to get dressed for the service even though he wasn't wearing a full suit. The most complicated thing he had to do was tie his shoes, but he was exhausted and still didn't want to go. His new clothes fit him all right, but they still weren't comfortable. It was probably why they were being worn that was bothering him, and not the clothes themselves.

He was sitting on the edge of the bed, putting on his shoes, when Dean came into the bedroom. "Dad's on the phone for you."

Sam looked at the phone, somewhat surprised. He took the phone from his brother who left him alone to take the call.

"Hi, Dad."

"_Hey, Sammy. Dean says you'll be leaving soon. How ya doin'?"_

"All right." Sam didn't feel like talking.

"_I'm on the road. I should be home late tomorrow."_

"Did Dean tell you we were going to a barbeque tomorrow?"

"_Yeah, he did. I think it's good for you to spend time with a friend."_

"A friend?" Sam countered. "He's not a friend. We're not allowed to _have _friends. He's just a guy I hang out with sometimes."

"_Well, okay." _

Sam could tell his father was struggling for the right thing to say, and on some level he appreciated that the man was trying. But Sam had a lot of anger near the surface and that's all he could concentrate on at the moment. He just wanted to get off the phone and get the rest of the day over with.

"I gotta go, Dad. I'm not ready and it's almost time to leave. Drive safely." He hung up before his dad could respond. He joined Dean in the living room, and they were in the car a few minutes later.

As they'd arranged the day before, the Winchesters met the Hollises at their home and followed them to the school. Mrs. Hollis had suggested it the day before, and Sam figured it couldn't hurt.

Dean navigated to a parking spot, and Sam looked at the people on the lawn in front of the school. There were some parents and kids congregated in groups and what could only be reporters milling around. Sam was immediately angry. He'd seen news reports on television where it seemed like the reporters were invading peoples' privacy, and now being a part of it made Sam feel sick.

"You okay?" Dean asked after he turned off the engine.

"I just want it to be over."

"I know."

Sam looked to the car next to them and saw Grady standing next to his father. He felt a pang of jealousy, but then turned to Dean. "Let's go."

Sam stopped to talk to a few classmates only because Grady did. Inside the school, he and Grady sat together with Dean on Sam's other side. He and Dean hadn't talked any more about the ghost Sam saw, or their early-morning search for it. Sam was still sure he hadn't imagined it, though, and he knew it was the coach he'd seen.

Not all the families of the murdered students came to the service, but those who did were seated in reserved spots near the front. Sam recognized Coach McGraff's wife as she came in with another woman he didn't know. They sat with the other families in the front.

The principal came out on the stage and talked about the soccer team in general terms, then about each of the dead players specifically. Before leaving the podium, he spoke about the coach's career and his impact on former students.

Once he was finished, the school orchestra and chorus performed a few somber sounding songs. Sam barely listened to the school board member who spoke next, and when students got up to talk, he felt like running from the room.

He noticed Dean glance at him more than once, but he knew it was only because his brother was worried about him. Dean knew him well enough to know how he was feeling even if he didn't say anything.

Finally, the memorial service was over and Sam couldn't get out of the auditorium fast enough. A lot of other students had the same idea, though some hung around to talk to others.

"We're going to Greenbriar for a late lunch," Mrs. Hollis said as they stood in front of their cars. "You're welcome to join us."

"Thanks," Sam began after glancing at Dean. "But I'm not really hungry and I just want to go home."

She smiled kindly. "Of course. You're still coming tomorrow, I hope?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Good." She touched Sam's shoulder. We'll see you tomorrow afternoon."

Mrs. Hollis and her husband got into their car, and Dean got into the Impala. Sam and Grady spoke for a few minutes, then parted company. As soon as Sam was in the car, he lost what little composure he had left. His hands started to shake and he felt the sting of tears in his eyes.

"Drive, Dean," he said quietly, his voice cracking.

As soon as they got back to the house, Sam rushed inside and closed himself in the bathroom. He was relieved that Dean left him alone, and when he was feeling more in control, he went to the bedroom to change clothes. He stretched out on his bed and when he woke up later, he'd been covered with a blanket.

He looked across the room and saw his brother sleeping on the other bed. The clock read just after 3 pm, and Sam was in no hurry to get up. He rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling for a while. He didn't move again until he heard Dean's bed creak.

"You awake?" Dean called a few moments later.

"Yeah."

"You wanna talk?"

"No."

"Okay. I'm gonna hit the head." Dean got out of bed and smacked Sam's leg as he passed.

ooooo

The brothers spent some time separate, but after Dean put together a simple dinner, they ate together in the kitchen.

"I thought I'd see the coach at the service today," Sam said after a long silence.

Dean looked at him. "Ghosts are more active at night, you know."

"Yeah," Sam admitted thoughtfully. "But still…."

"You're not going to sit up tonight and wait to see him again."

Sam realized that wasn't a question. It wasn't exactly an order, either, but Dean clearly expected Sam to listen to him. "You think last night was a fluke?"

"I don't know, but what I do know is that you need to sleep."

"If his ghost is running around, we need to get rid of it."

"Sammy…."

"I thought this is what Dad is teaching us to do." Sam's voice was hard.

"Yeah, it is, but –"

"But what?"

Dean sighed. "Nothing. Yeah, okay, if he's a ghost, we need to do something."

"Maybe we should talk to Mrs. McGraff."

"And say what? We can't just walk up to her and ask her if she's seen the ghost of her dead husband."

"I know that," Sam stared at him.

"Dude," Dean leaned forward and put his arms on the table. "You need to keep your head clear about this, okay? You can't just jump into things. Dad will be home tomorrow and –"

"And he'll come in and save the day," Sam said dramatically.

"What's the goal here, Sam? To get rid of the ghost or –"

"Yeah, that's the goal." Sam sighed. He knew he'd gotten angry for no reason. "Look, I'm sorry, okay? It's just…"

"I know it's been a really hard few days. Just keep your head on straight, okay?"

Sam nodded. "Yeah."

ooooo

Sam didn't spend the night watching for the ghost, but he woke up often and watched from the window for long periods of time. He didn't know how many times he'd been up when Dean found him in the kitchen. It was still hours before sunrise.

"Sammy."

His tone wasn't angry or reproachful, but Sam still didn't like it. He turned from the window, not sure what to expect. "I haven't been up all night."

"But you're up now."

"It's not like I've been getting a lot of sleep lately anyway."

Dean put a hand on his shoulder and pulled him away from the window. "Back to bed with you."

"Dean," Sam protested, pulling away from him. "I'm not six!"

"I know you're not. But standing here at the window isn't going to do any good. I mean, for all we know, the ghost is gone. It might have just been taking a last walk around the neighborhood where its students live."

"You really think that?" Sam asked.

"I don't know, but the chances of seeing it just wander past the house again are pretty slim."

Sam had to admit Dean was right. Earlier, he'd wanted to suggest looking for it, but he'd known Dean would never agree.

ooooo

Dean was pleasantly surprised to find out that Grady Hollis had an attractive older sister. She told him that she'd recently broken up with her boyfriend and Dean thought she was having a good time flirting with him. He knew he had to tread carefully since Sam had a relationship with the family, but it made the barbeque more pleasant for him.

He kept an eye on Sam, alert to any sign that he wanted to leave, but after a while he knew that Sam was comfortable enough to stay for a while. He turned his complete attention to Renee and didn't notice Sam and Grady going inside.

The boys went to Grady's room and got lost in a new video game. They'd gotten through several levels when Grady suddenly dropped his controller. Sam looked at him, confused. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing. I mean, I guess I'm just tired cuz I didn't sleep very well last night."

"Yeah, I know how that is. I haven't slept much since it happened."

"What do you think about the counseling?" Grady sat back against the bed's headboard.

Sam shrugged, shifting to face him. "I don't know. I don't really like to talk about it, but they say it helps."

"I guess soccer season is over."

"I guess, but they're supposed to bring in a new coach." Sam watched as Grady fidgeted with the hem of his shirt, and got the idea he wanted to talk about something. He didn't know how to prompt him.

"Do you believe in ghosts?" Grady asked after several moments of silence.

Sam looked at him sharply. "What do you mean?"

"Look," Grady leaned forward. "I know this is going to sound totally off the wall, but….I could have sworn I saw Coach last night."

"Wh- where?"

"Outside. I went to the kitchen to get some water, then went to the living room. I thought I saw him out on the sidewalk." Grady averted his eyes.

Sam didn't know if he should admit seeing their coach, too. He didn't see how it could hurt; it wasn't like he was going to tell him about hunters. He hesitated, but in the end, told Grady what he'd seen.

"What do you think it means? You think the other guys have seen him?"

"I don't know," Sam said. "But if two of us have, chances are more have. Not that it makes a lot of sense. Ghosts generally haunt specific places. Uh, I mean, that's what I've read, anyway."

"You've read about this stuff?"

Sam shrugged, his cheeks burning. "Yeah, some. I read all sorts of stuff."

Grady nodded, seemingly satisfied with that explanation. "What should we do?"

Sam could answer that question truthfully. "I have no idea. Did you tell anyone other than me what you saw?"

"No way. My mom and dad are already watching me too close. I guess they think I'm gonna go crazy cuz of what happened. I overheard them talking about sending me to a private shrink."

"Seriously?"

Grady nodded.

"What about the counselor we're all supposed to see as a group?"

"They're all for it. I guess the other one is just a back-up plan. What about you? Have you talked to your dad about all this?"

"Yeah. He'll be home tonight, too. I gotta say I was surprised he thought the counseling was a good idea. That's not like my dad at all."

"Is it weird with him gone so much?"

Sam shrugged, not really wanting to talk about it. "I'm used to it, I guess. And Dean's great, so…"

"You're lucky," Grady said. "My sister's kind of a bitch."

Sam smiled to himself. "Maybe sisters are different."

"I guess." Grady began to fidget again. "So, you think we should talk to the other guys about what we saw?"

"I don't know. Let me think about it."

Grady nodded, and his mother popped her head in the door. "Burgers are ready, boys."


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

ooooo

I get by with a little help from my friends

John Lennon

ooooo

"You taking her out?" Sam asked when he and Dean were on their way home from the barbeque.

"Renee?"

"No, Grady's mom," Sam rolled his eyes. 'Yes, Renee."

"Yeah. We'll firm up plans, but probably tomorrow."

"Oh."

"You're going to school tomorrow, I'm going to work," Dean said. "Things have got to start getting back to normal."

"Normal," Sam snorted.

"Our version of it," Dean said.

"Hey, Dean?" Sam began after they'd taken a few more steps. "Grady told me he's seen the coach."

"The coach's ghost?" Dean asked.

"Yeah. Last night on the sidewalk in front of the house."

"What was it doing?"

"Just standing there, looking at the house."

"What did Grady do?"

"At first he thought he was imagining things, but decided it went on too long."

"It went on too long?"

"Yeah. If it had been his imagination, he figures it would have only lasted a few seconds."

"How long did it last?" Dean asked.

"A few minutes. Grady stood at the window and watched the ghost watching the house for _minutes_, Dean."

"I never thought you were imagining it, Sammy."

"What do we do?" Sam asked, ignoring what his brother had said. "Grady wants to talk to the other guys."

"To see if they've seen the ghost?"

"Yeah."

"How do you feel about that?"

"I don't know," Sam said with a glance in his brother's direction. "It might help us figure stuff out. Or…."

"Or people might think you're a freak?" Dean guessed.

"Yeah."

"A lot of people have a passing interest in the paranormal," Dean said. "There's no reason for the other guys to think anything bad about you. You don't have to tell them _everything _you know."

"Yeah, I guess." The walked along in silence for a few minutes. "Don't do anything stupid with Renee, okay? I like Grady."

Dean looked at him, seemingly about to say something, but he only nodded.

ooooo

Even though it was well after midnight when John Winchester got home, he'd set his alarm to be awake before Sam went to school. He was in the kitchen with a cup of coffee when Sam walked in.

"Hi, Dad," he said, politely, surprised to find his dad awake. "When did you get home?"

"Three, four hours ago. I wanted to see you first thing."

Sam was worried. "Why?"

"Because I'm concerned about you. I should have come home before now. I'm sorry, Sammy."

"You were on a hunt," Sam said with a shrug. He wasn't comfortable with his father's apologizing.

"How about I pick you up from school this afternoon and we go somewhere to talk for a while?"

Sam wasn't sure he liked that idea, but he appreciated the attempt. Also, he knew that if anyone would know what to do about the coach's ghost, it was his dad. "I….I'm supposed to have a counseling session instead of soccer practice."

"That's okay. I'll pick you up after that. And Dean can meet us for dinner after he gets off work."

"Yeah, okay." John stood up and pulled Sam into a hug. That used to happen a lot more than it did these days, and Sam was surprised at the warm feeling it gave him.

Sam left with Dean a few minutes later.

ooooo

Dean had woken up when John got home in the wee hours of the morning. That wasn't unusual; he'd been doing that since he was little. No matter how quiet John was, Dean always heard him.

They'd sat in the kitchen, Dean had wanted to know about the hunt, but John had been more interested in how things were going with his sons. Dean had insisted he was all right other than being tired from lack of sleep.

After going back to sleep for a couple of hours after the boys left, John made another pot of coffee and thought about the ghost Sammy and his friend had seen. Dean hadn't seemed too concerned about it, but John didn't like the idea of any ghost hanging around his kid. He'd agreed that it was unusual for a ghost to tour a subdivision, but like Dean had told Sam, anything was possible and maybe the coach had just wanted to check on his team one more time.

John had been in touch with the school principal, guidance counselor and the therapist who would be working with the team, but he'd wanted to speak to them in person. He called to make appointments with each of them – the principal and guidance counselor were both available in the afternoon and said they could meet with him while the therapist was with the team.

When the principal greeted him in his office, it was clear he thought John was there to cause trouble. John quickly put him at ease. "I really just want to hear what happened – I know we've talked on the phone, but since I wasn't able to be here until now…."

"Of course," the guidance counselor said. She went over everything that John already knew, patiently answering all of his questions.

"What about the team? Will they still be able to play?"

The principal cleared his throat. "Yes, but we won't have a new coach for them until next week. This is a fairly small program within the school district."

"And the counseling?"

"The current plan is for the therapist to be here twice a week after school – the days there isn't any soccer practice. The boys are welcome to attend the sessions, though we can't compel them to do so. Everything that happens between the boys and the counselor is confidential – the school won't know what goes on. We're just providing a convenient space for them, and the school district is paying for it. Of course the confidentiality doesn't apply to the parents."

John nodded. "Would it be possible for me to see where it happened?"

The two school employees exchanged a look.

"May I ask why?" the principal asked.

"I can't really explain it," John said. Part of the reason he wanted to see it was because he never had, but he also wanted to look at it from a hunter's perspective because of the ghost.

"Well, the other parents were able to come with their children….I don't see that it would do any harm," the counselor said. She led John to the locker room once they'd finished the conversation.

She hesitated outside the door, the keys in her hand. John thought it fortunate that she didn't want to go in. "I imagine it's not easy," he said gently. "I can go in myself if that's all right."

She looked at him gratefully. "I know it's silly. It's all cleaned up and…and I wasn't even here when it happened. I can't imagine what it must be like for the kids. How's Sam doing?"

"I've only talked to him on the phone, and briefly this morning before he left for school. His brother is concerned, but says he's been doing better. The first couple of nights…well, he had a lot of nightmares."

"I'm sure he did. It sounds like his brother is very devoted to him. He came with Sam when we let them get their stuff out of their lockers. He was at the memorial service, too." John knew she hadn't meant those things as an accusation, but it still made him feel guilty. It seemed like no matter what he did, he felt that way. She held out the keys. "Thanks for understanding."

John nodded and was inside the locker room a few moments later. He walked around slowly, trying to picture things as they had been that day. He spent a lot of time in the coach's office. He didn't expect to find anything – as far as he knew, the ghost had not been at the school, but he wanted to check it out anyway while he had the opportunity.

He was waiting for Sam in front of the school when the counseling session was over. "You okay?" John asked as he put an arm around Sam's shoulders.

"I'm getting really tired of that question."

"I imagine. Where do you feel like going? Dean can't meet us for about an hour."

"Can we just walk for a while?"

"Yeah, of course."

Sam led him toward the fields at the back of the school. He climbed onto the bleachers and eventually settled on a bench about halfway up. John sat down next to him as he stared out onto the field.

"I'm glad you came home, Dad."

John was surprised to hear Sam say that. He hadn't felt particularly welcome this morning. "I'm sorry you have to go through this, Sammy."

"Dean tell you what I saw?"

"Yeah. I looked around the locker room just to see what was there. What did you and your friend decide? Did you talk to the other guys about it?"

"Not yet. We figured we'd try to do it one-on-one."

"So, tell me what you saw. Exactly."

Sam went over it again, stopping to answer his father's questions. He also told him what he'd learned from Grady, and when he was done, Sam looked at his dad hopefully. John put his arm around his shoulders. "Don't worry."

They sat quietly for another long moment before Sam spoke again. "Is it okay if I keep going to the group sessions?"

"Is it helping?"

"I don't know, but I think so."

John didn't like it because he was afraid Sam would say too much and make people suspicious, but he didn't feel right making him stop if it was helping him. He'd no doubt end up seeing a lot of terrible things in his life, and if he learned now how to deal with them, it could only help in the long run.

"Yeah, Sammy. It's okay."

"Thanks, Dad. I'll be careful."

"I know you will." John also knew how easy it could sometimes be to mess up.

"Dad?"

John looked at Sam; there was a profound sadness on his face that broke the father's heart. It reminded him a little of how Dean looked for so long after Mary died. "Yeah?"

"I'm sorry."

"Sorry for what?"

"I just…." Sam looked out toward the field as he slipped his hands into his jacket pockets. "The things you see….And even Dean…."

John knew what Sam was getting at, and wasn't sure how to comfort him. Sam wasn't like him, or Dean, for that matter. He felt things strongly and wasn't able to hide behind a mask of indifference. John knew that would be a weakness when he started to actually hunt and not just sit on the sidelines, but it's also what would make him good at it. He'd feel what the victims were going through, and that would make him want to help them even more.

John also had to remember that Sam was only fourteen. He shouldn't have the same thick skin that his father and brother did. The truth was, Dean was too young for that, too, but the damage had already been done there.

John looked out onto the field, his posture matching that of his son. He wasn't used to comforting Sam any more. That duty had fallen to Dean a long time ago, but he thought that right now Sam seemed to need his father more than he did his brother.

"You have nothing to apologize for, Sammy. I'm not going to lie to you about this. I've never put much stock into telling some stranger your troubles, but what you saw….it was horrible. I saw people I knew and cared about killed, but that was in a war. You were in a high school locker room. And you're barely a teenager."

"I'm not falling apart, but I'm not holding it together so good, either."

Sam's voice was quiet and his revelation was more than a little unexpected. John put an arm around his shoulders, feeling his initial resistance. It didn't take Sam long to shift and move closer to his father. "Just admitting that is a huge step, kiddo."

Sam didn't respond, but he didn't pull away, either. The two sat quietly for a long time.

"It's about time to meet your brother," John said, his arm still around Sam's shoulders.

Without a word, Sam stood up and headed toward the parking lot. He and John were on the walkway on the side of the school when Sam suddenly stopped. John looked at him for a moment, then followed his gaze. He saw a man about 50 feet away, dressed in a suit, and facing their direction.

"Sammy?"

"That's the coach, Dad."

John looked at the man again. "You're sure?"

"Yes, sir."

"Get to the car," John said as dropped the keys into Sam's hand and took off in a run.

He'd gone several steps before it occurred to him that he shouldn't have to _chase _a ghost. If anything, it should disappear, but this one was _running_. And fast - toward the woods, where it would be easy to lose its pursuer. John gave chase anyway, but soon realized there was no chance of finding it. He was also afraid it would double-back and go after Sam, so he made his way back to the car himself.

Relieved that Sam was safe, John slipped behind the wheel.

"What happened?"

"I lost it in the woods. I'm not exactly sure what that was, but it's not a ghost." John took the keys from Sam. "And don't ever do what I did."

"Sir?"

"Don't just chase after something like that with no weapons. Always be prepared."

"Yes, sir. But…you don't have _any _weapons on you?"

John looked at Sam from the corner of his eye and smiled. "Let's go meet Dean."

ooooo

"So, what do you think it is?" Dean asked after he'd heard about the encounter at the school. John had called him and told him to come home instead of going to the restaurant.

"There are a few corporeal undead creatures," John mused. "Zombie, revenant….Sammy, do you know if the coach's funeral has happened yet?"

"Yeah. His wife wanted a private service, and that's one reason we had that service at the school."

"I have a feeling if we go to the cemetery, we won't like what we find."

"So, we're going to the cemetery?" Dean asked.

"Yeah." John knew Sam would protest if he wasn't allowed to go. Normally that wouldn't deter him, but John wanted Sam close so he could protect him if necessary.

"So, if he's a zombie," Sam began thoughtfully. "Someone had to bring him back. What about a revenant?"

"He would have come back on his own."

Sam looked at his dad, eyes wide. "For real?"

John nodded. "Yeah. Most likely for revenge."

"But the kid who shot him is dead, too," Dean said.

"It's possible he doesn't know that, or he has another agenda. Of course it could also be that it's not a revenant at all. Could still be a zombie…or something else."

"If the body is in the grave, what do we do?" Dean asked with a glance in Sam's direction.

"Salt and burn it," Sam said coldly.

"First things first," John said. "We have to find the grave."

"His obituary said he was being buried at Woodland Cemetery," Sam said. "That's the smaller one, so that helps."

ooooo

Since they wouldn't have to dig up the body, John decided there was no reason not to go to the cemetery immediately rather than waiting for nightfall. No one would get suspicious about Sam wanting to visit his coach's grave. Even though John was pretty sure about what they'd find, he still thought it odd no one would have noticed what would appear to be a desecration. On the other hand, it could have been noticed but not reported. If that was the case, it all would have been set to rights and their job would be harder.

Dean drove them to the cemetery in the Impala. The office was closed, but it would still be a couple of hours before the gate was locked. They'd talked about breaking into the files to find out where Coach McGraff had been buried, but John decided it wasn't worth the risk. The cemetery wasn't that big, and a new grave should be relatively easy to spot.

John went in one direction while the boys went in another. They all had small bags slung over their shoulders and rock salt filled shotguns within easy reach if there was a problem. John would have preferred sticking together, but time wasn't on their side. He was, however, relieved to be the one to find the grave.

There were still elaborate floral displays positioned around the newly dug earth. John looked around the area intently as he pulled out his cell phone to call Dean. There was no reason he and Sam should keep looking, but he hesitated before dialing the number to ensure he had a little extra time on his own to assess the situation.

The grave didn't look as if it had been disturbed, but there was some dirt scattered on the grass that made him think otherwise. He didn't know if the cemetery still did the digging by hand, or if excavating equipment was used, but either way the area looked a little untidy. That wasn't exactly conclusive evidence, though, and John was considering options when he heard a voice behind him.

"'Scuse me, I don't want to bother you, but the cemetery gate will be closing shortly."

John turned around to see a man dressed in coveralls who obviously worked here. "Thank you. I won't be much longer."

"Shame what happened to him," the man said, taking a knit cap from his head and twisting it in his hands. "Getting' shot like that…then not even being able to rest in peace."

"What do you mean?" John asked sharply, hoping he hadn't sounded too abrupt.

The man shrugged, then looked sadly toward the grave. "I had to fix it up just this morning. It looked like some kinda animal had tried to dig him up."

"An animal?"

"Well, what else could it have been?"

John nodded noncommittally and noticed Sam and Dean coming from behind the worker. He saw Dean stop short, then pull Sam off the path into a small grove of trees.

"Weird, though." John turned his attention back to the man in front of him. "We've never had that kind of trouble here before."

"Was the coffin exposed?" John asked nonchalantly.

"Oh, no! The animal wouldn't a dug that far down." He looked at the grave again. "'I guess it coulda been kids, though. From the school? I dunno, but the whole thing is strange if you ask me. I'm sorry, mister, are you family?"

"Uh, no. My son is on the high school soccer team and he wanted to visit his coach's grave. I just wanted to check it out first before I brought him. It's a good thing you noticed the vandalism. So, you think it was kids, then and not an animal?"

"I don't really know," he said, still twisting the cap in his hands. "It almost looked like something had dug it up, then tried to fix it."

"Could it have been another worker here?"

His face brightened. "I guess it coulda been. Yeah, that must have been what happened. Didn't do a good job, though."

"Good thing you were here, then." John smiled.

"Yeah, I guess so." He put the cap back on his head. "Have a nice evenin', Sir."

"Yeah, you, too." John watched him walk away. Dean and Sam joined him a few moments later.

"That was one of the workmen here," John said, noticing Sam's intent stare at the grave. "He said he'd had to clean it up because an animal or something had tried to dig it up."

"So the coach dug himself out," Dean said.

"Looks that way," John agreed with a nod.

'What do we do now?"

"We find him and…." John looked toward Sam, who was still distracted. "Get rid of him. There's nothing we can do right this minute, though, and we need to eat. How about we go to the restaurant we were planning on?"

Dean agreed, but Sam stayed silent. John exchanged a look with his older son before Dean put a hand on Sam's shoulder. "Come on, Sammy."

ooooo

"Why do revenants come back, Dad?" Sam asked while he picked at the meatloaf he'd ordered. The voice John heard belonged to a much younger Sam.

"You know, I'm not really sure." John put his fork down and leaned forward a little. "There are a lot of theories, of course, but nothing is for sure. We do know that they come back on their own. They aren't made or controlled by anyone."

"And they come back for revenge?"

"Generally," John confirmed.

Sam nodded thoughtfully. "So, Coach must be pissed at someone other than Toby – the guy who shot him. I mean, Toby's dead, too, so…."

"So it would seem," John said. "Do you know anything about his personal life that might help figure this out?"

Sam shook his head. "I just know he was married. I don't even know if they have kids."

"I'll check him out, see what I can find. You need to eat something," John said to Sam.

After some silence, the mood at the table lightened considerably. No one forgot what they were up against, but realized that every waking moment couldn't be filled with tension. It had been a while since the three of them were together, and even Sam wanted to take advantage of that.

After they'd finished eating, John and Sam went home while Dean went to meet Grady's sister, Renee. Sam issued a few light-hearted warnings before letting him go. At home, Sam reluctantly went to his bedroom to do his homework and John went into research mode.

ooooo

"You were out late last night," John said when Dean came into the kitchen the next morning. Sam was in the shower and John was already working on the coach situation.

Dean poured coffee into his favorite mug and sat across from his father. "Yes, sir. Did I wake you?"

"I was reading in my room. You and Sam still working out and training when I'm not here?"

"Yes, sir." John leveled a stare at him and Dean swallowed hard. "I'll pick Sam up from school and we'll get some training in this afternoon."

John nodded and turned his attention back to the pages in front of him. Dean waited a few moments before asking about the research.

"I haven't found much out. Sammy got some stuff with his computer that I'll look into today."

"You saw the revenant, or whatever it is, at school in the daytime. Do you think it's safe? The school, I mean?"

John thought about that for a moment. "Honestly? I don't know. But until we know more about what's going on, I don't see how we can protect against it. And I can't send Sam to school armed to the hilt."

"Why am I going to school armed?" Sam asked, walking into the kitchen.

"You're not. But your brother had a good point, so I think you might want to stick a few extra things in your backpack."

"Like what?"

"Some holy water for one. An extra blade or two, maybe."

"Why?" Sam asked with a glance toward his brother.

"Just to be a little extra safe. Dean pointed out we saw the coach – whatever he is now – at the school during the day. I think it'll be okay, but I want you prepared. Is your phone charged?"

"Yes, sir."

"If anything happens, or you see anything out of the ordinary, you call me."

"Yes, sir." Sam looked at his brother again.

John stood up and patted him on the shoulder as he walked past. "Get yourself some breakfast before you head out."

ooooo

John knew he couldn't very well go around town asking questions about the coach, so he'd called someone he trusted to help out. Aidan Prichard, nearly 27, had been a part of the Winchesters' lives since he was 12 and John had found him hiding in the basement of his family's home. His parents had been killed by demons and he'd grew up in the children's home run by Jim Murphy's church. John was never sure if he thought of Aidan as a third son, or a younger brother.

Aidan made a living as a freelance artist, generally making a home near Blue Earth, Minnesota where Jim's church was located. Like any hunter, though, he was fairly transient and John had known he was only a few hours away when he placed the call. Aidan arrived just before noon and the two men talked over lunch at the Winchester home.

"You think the coach is a zombie or revenant," Aidan mused. "And I'm supposed to question the man's wife?"

"I'm leaning toward revenant based on what I saw yesterday. The guy didn't move or act like a zombie. He was fast. And he seemed in control of his own actions. So that means he came back on his own," John said.

"How long was he a coach here?"

John checked his notes. "Over 20 years. Why?"

"Always soccer?"

"He was a PE teacher, too."

"And always high school?"

"He taught briefly at an elementary school in Brandon, about 40 miles away, for a couple years. He's been at this high school for the majority of his career."

Aidan nodded. "Okay. So I could have been one of his students."

"Yeah." John saw where Aidan was headed.

"Cool. I'll just go to her house, pay my respects, and see what I can find out."

"Where did you learn to be so sneaky?" John asked with a smile.

ooooo

Dean didn't work full-time at the garage, and his hours varied depending on the day of the week. As planned, he was waiting outside the school for Sam when he got done with class. Sam knew they were going to the gym at the community center before heading home and had left his gym bag in the back seat of the car.

"Anything happen today?" Dean asked him.

"No, it was normal."

"I guess that's good."

"Do you know if Dad found out anything?"

"No, I haven't been home."

Sam nodded and settled back against the seat.

They spent almost two hours at the community center's gym before going home. Dean was tired, but smiled when he pulled onto their street and saw a familiar car in front of the house. "Looks like we have company."

"Aidan," Sam smiled at him. "Cool."

They walked in to find their father and Aidan sitting in the living room, each with a bottle of beer. Aidan stood to greet them each with an enthusiastic hug.

"What are you doing here?" Dean asked smiling.

"He came to help out," John spoke up. "No one here knows him, so it's easier for him to ask questions."

Sam sat on the couch. "When did you get here?"

"Around noon."

"And he's already found some things out," John said with a look at Sam. "Come sit with me."

Sam glanced at his brother, and Dean only shrugged. Sam moved closer to his father and sat on the arm of his recliner. "What is it, Dad?"

"How well did you know Toby?"

"Not that well. We didn't have any classes together and he got cut from the team not long after the session started. I think he got into a lot of fights somewhere, but I never saw him fight at school. Why?"

"Why would you think he got into fights?"

"His face had bruises and cuts on it a lot. He was kind of a creep."

John exchanged a look with Aidan. "Well….Toby's dad isn't such a nice guy. He beat Toby, maybe even worse."

Sam looked at his father, confusion on his face, but then he understood. "He molested Toby?"

John nodded and all the color drained from Sam's face. John watched him closely. Sam was mature and more intelligent than most boys his age, but he was still so young. John and Dean had done everything they could to keep him as protected as possible – and not just from the truth about the supernatural. John knew that Dean sometimes went out of his way to make sure nothing bad reached his brother. Sam wasn't naïve, but he was still just a boy.

"Where's his mom?" Sam asked.

"She died a few years ago."

Sam looked even more upset.

"Toby wasn't cut from the team," John continued gently. "His father made him quit because the coach knew what was going on and had already gone to the authorities."

"Why did Toby shoot him, then?"

"I don't know that we'll ever know the answer to that, Sammy. And it's probably a very complicated answer, anyway."

"Then why is the coach back? Why not Toby?"

"I can't answer that, either. But for now, we're assuming the coach is back for Toby's father."

"Are we sure he's a revenant and not something else?" Dean asked, his voice soft. He was also watching Sam closely.

"Not a hundred percent," John admitted. "But I'd be very surprised if what I chased into the woods was a zombie. There are other options, but I'm still voting for revenant."

"How'd you find all this out?" Sam asked, looking at Aidan.

"People like to talk to me," he said. "And one thing led to another. I'm sorry, Little Dude."

Sam shrugged and John put a hand on his wrist. "This is a lot to take in."

"Yeah," Sam agreed. "But I'm not six."

"No, you're not."

"I have homework." Sam slid from the chair.

"Dinner will be ready in about half an hour," John called out as Sam went to his bedroom. He sighed and looked at Dean.

"He'll be okay," Dean assured him. "He has to think about stuff before he'll talk about it."

"I hate this case," John said leaning forward and rubbing his hands over his face. He looked at Dean. "Did you ask Sam about school?"

"Yeah. He said everything was normal."

John nodded. "That's something at least. Did he have nightmares last night?"

"I don't think so."

"Good."

Dean looked at him. "We're going to have to find the coach and….how do you get rid of a revenant?"

"Fire. Decapitation."

"The usual."

"Yeah, except this is someone Sammy knew and respected," John pointed out.

"We just won't let him see it, then."

"I hate this case," John said again as he went into the kitchen.

ooooo

_The term "revenant" can be used to refer to any form of the Undead, whether it is a vampire, a ghost, or a zombie. The word comes from the French and Latin verb revenir, which means to return. Therefore, the Revenant is a once-living human that has returned from the dead._

Sam sat back in his chair and stared at the book on his desk. He couldn't believe this was what his coach had become. And for what? Wasn't it bad enough that he'd been gunned down in his own office by someone he'd tried to help? Did he have to come back, forcing his destruction? It just wasn't fair – not that anything in life was.

Sam's thoughts turned to Toby. He didn't know anything about him, but now he felt guilty for not giving him more of a chance. He'd dismissed the other boy as a troublemaker and a jerk without ever even talking to him. And now, to find out he'd been abused by his father in maybe the worst way possible….Sam didn't even want to think about it, but yet he couldn't stop himself.

His own father could be harsh, but he'd never so much as hit either of his sons, let alone….Sam shuddered.

He closed the book quickly when Dean came into the room a moment later. Dean opened a dresser drawer and seemed to be looking for something, but Sam knew he was only pretending. Dean had come into the room to check on him, but didn't want to be obvious about it.

"Why would a father do that to his kid?"

Sam heard Dean close the drawer, then the squeak of the bed as he sat down. "I don't know, Sammy. Some people….they're just not put together right."

"Dad's been kind of a jerk sometimes, but –"

"He'd never do that!" Dean's voice was firm.

"I know," Sam turned around in the chair to face his brother. "I didn't mean he would. It's just….sometimes I think we have it bad, but nothing like Toby had it."

"You're not blaming yourself for not seeing something, are you?" Dean asked him. "There's no way you could have known that his father was hurting him."

"I know. I guess. I still feel bad, though. I just thought he was mean."

"It's not your fault," Dean insisted.

"What's gonna happen to the coach?"

"Sammy, the coach is dead. That thing running around….that isn't your coach."

"But it came back to do something the coach wanted to do. So, isn't it still him?"

Dean opened his mouth to speak, but closed it and looked thoughtful. Sam looked at him hopefully.

"It looks like your coach," John said from the doorway, causing Sam and Dean to turn in surprise. "It may even be mad at the same person the coach was mad at. But what made him who he was….that's all gone. This isn't your coach and it has to go."

"I know," Sam said sadly.

"Dinner's ready," John said. He turned from the doorway and the boys didn't hear him as he passed Aidan in the hallway. "I _really _hate this job."

ooooo

The meal was eaten in almost total silence. John and Aidan tried, but their attempts at conversation were not well-received. After eating only half the spaghetti on his plate, Sam excused himself saying he had to study. Dean watched him go, a worried expression on his face. Once he was sure Sam was out of ear-shot, he looked at his father. "How do we find this revenant?"

"Aidan and I are going to watch Toby's father tonight," John said. "I found out he works at the factory outside of town – he gets off at 11:00. We'll be there before that and if we're lucky, the thing will show up tonight and we can end it."

"How often do you get lucky?" Dean asked. He saw Aidan hide a smile behind his hand and realized how the question sounded. He looked at Aidan and rolled his eyes. "Really, dude?"

John ignored them. "Let's just hope we can handle this tonight." He stood up and began to clear the table. "Dishes are yours tonight, Dean."

"Yes, sir."

ooooo

Sam was still in his room later when John and Aidan were ready to leave.

"Hey," John said from the doorway.

Sam looked up from the book on his lap. "Hey."

"Aidan and I are heading out to do some surveillance. I'm hoping to end this thing tonight."

Sam nodded.

"I wish there was something I could do for you, Sammy. I hate that I can't fix this."

"You'll get the revenant."

"Yeah." John took a few steps into the room and sat on Dean's bed. He leaned forward, closer to Sam. "But that doesn't fix it. Not for you."

Sam shrugged, looking back to his book. "It's not about me."

"It involves you," John said. "You saw something horrible in that locker room – and you could have been one of the ones hurt or….or worse. And learning about what your classmate was living with? Sammy –"

"I'm not a baby," Sam said. He looked at John, seeming so young.

"I know you're not a baby," John agreed. "But you feel things very strongly. There's nothing wrong with that, but it makes things harder for you."

"You don't care that some kid's dad was molesting him?" Sam asked. It wasn't quite a challenge, but John could see the anger and frustration growing.

"It makes me sick. The idea that any father could hurt his own child….But I didn't know the boy. You did. And you saw, first hand, what his pain caused him to do. That's huge for anyone, but especially a young man with as big a heart as you have. And if there was something I could do that could fix everything – for you and everyone else - I would move heaven and earth to do it."

Sam blinked back tears. "Thanks, Dad."

John moved to Sam's bed and pulled him into a hug. He rested his chin on Sam's head as the boy tossed the book aside and put his arms around his father. They sat quietly for several minutes until John reluctantly announced that he had to leave.

"I hope you get it tonight," Sam said as John paused in the doorway.

"Thanks. So do I."


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

ooooo

You can't put a Band-Aid on every boo-boo you've made; some just need time to heal

Unknown

ooooo

John and Aidan got to the factory in plenty of time before Glenn Rogers, Toby's father, got off work. He walked to an old hatchback parked near the edge of the parking lot, and after a few tries, he got the engine started.

They followed him to a street not too far from the Winchester home. There was a marked difference between the condition of the Rogers' yard and house and that of his neighbors. There were dead and dying bushes near the street; the lawn practically didn't exist. The paint on the house was peeling and had probably been yellow at some point.

"I guess he was too busy being a bastard to worry about upkeep," Aidan muttered. "Okay, how you wanna play this?"

"One in the front. One in the back."

"I'll take the back yard."

"You sure?"

"Yeah, I'm on it. I'm younger than you are. You need to sit." John gave Aidan a dirty look while he opened the truck door and stepped out.

"Take this," John said, holding out a two-way radio. "Faster communication than the cell phones."

"Old school. I like it."

"Check in at least once every ten minutes."

"You got it, Boss." Aidan paused. "Are we supposed to save this guy from the revenant if it shows up?"

John's jaw tensed. "That wasn't my plan, but I can't make that call for you."

Aidan nodded. "Understood."

Once John was alone, he had nothing to distract him from his thoughts. Dean had made a compelling argument for being involved with the surveillance, but in the end he'd understood why he couldn't. They both agreed that Sam didn't need to be a part of this and he never would have stayed home if Dean didn't.

John had been surprised, but relieved, that Sam hadn't wanted to come along. He had all his arguments prepared, knowing it would come down to him just saying no, and he'd almost been confused when Sam hadn't even brought it up.

As John watched, a light in what he assumed was an upstairs bedroom came on. He saw the silhouette of Glenn Rogers pass across the window, then back in the other direction a few moments later. He checked in with Aidan, finding things were quiet in the back of the house and there was no sign of the revenant.

ooooo

"Dude, are you still studying?" Dean asked when he walked into the bedroom and found Sam with a book in his hands. "You should be in bed."

Sam glanced around. "I am."

"Asleep," Dean corrected himself. "It's midnight and you have school tomorrow."

"How long do you think Dad and Aidan will be out?"

"Probably for quite a while." Dean sat on the edge of his bed. "And you're not waiting up."

Sam gave him a dirty look and dropped his book on the floor. "There's a counseling session tomorrow."

"I get off work at 4:00. I can pick you up afterward."

"Thanks."

"Is it helping? The counseling?"

"Dad asked me the same thing," Sam said with a small smile. "I guess it is, but I'm not sure yet. Dad's okay with me going, though."

"That surprises you?"

"A little. It doesn't surprise you?"

Dean shrugged. "Yeah, maybe some."

Sam stood up. "I'll be back."

Dean slipped out of his jeans and crawled into bed. When Sam came back into the room, he followed suit. They talked for a while longer before turning out the light. It didn't take long for Sam to fall asleep, but it didn't last very long.

He jerked awake, shaking and breathing hard, the last images of the nightmare vivid in his mind. He looked toward Dean's bed and, seeing he was still sleeping, Sam got out of bed and made his way to the bathroom. His hands were still trembling so badly that he almost couldn't splash cold water on his face.

He tried not to think about what he'd seen in the dream – reliving the shooting was almost preferable to what he'd seen tonight. Toby and his father….Sam shuddered, feeling sick. Sam knew his own father would never do anything even remotely similar, but he could imagine how Toby felt.

After several minutes, Sam got himself under control and he went back to the bedroom. Dean was still asleep, and even though Sam got into his own bed, he lay as close to his brother as he could.

ooooo

John saw the garage door opening and immediately called for Aidan to get to the truck. Glenn Rogers backed out of the driveway and took off slowly down the street.

"Where the hell is he going this time of night?" Aidan wondered as John followed at a distance.

John didn't bother replying. He had an idea after Rogers had made a few turns, but he hoped he was wrong.

"What is this place?" Aidan asked as John parked across the street from the small lot that Rogers had pulled into.

"A park. Kids play here during the day, but at night…."

"At night?" Aidan looked at John. "Please tell me you're joking."

"All kinds of things go on at night. Drugs, hookers….male, female. Some are underage. I _hate _this case."

"Cops let this go on?"

"They'll come through at some point. As soon as they cart away a truckload of people, more show up."

Aidan groaned. "So, what do we do?"

"Have I mentioned how much I hate this job?" John grumbled. "Okay, the park isn't very big. We can probably keep an eye on Rogers from the trees around it."

"Why doesn't that appeal to me?"

"Because this case just sucks. I swear, I don't think it can get any worse."

"Don't say that," Aidan warned. "Everything can get worse."

They left the truck a few moments later.

ooooo

Dean was startled awake by a crash outside. The knife he kept under his pillow was in his hand before his eyes were even open. He jumped up and made sure the room was clear of danger before calling Sam's name and pulling on his jeans. Sam was already awake, but not quite as coherent.

"I heard it," Sam said. "What was it?"

"I don't know. Get dressed." Dean looked out the window, but when he saw nothing out of the ordinary, he grabbed a shotgun from the closet.

"Where are you going?" Sam followed him into the hall.

"To check it out. Get a weapon, Sammy."

Sam veered into their father's room for another gun. He heard a second crash, again from the back yard, and he found Dean in the kitchen, looking into the back yard through the window in the door.

"Keep behind me," Dean said as he opened the door.

Dean glanced over his shoulder before creeping out onto the porch. He had no idea what time it was, but there wasn't even a hint of sunrise on the horizon yet. A streetlight from behind the house lit up the yard somewhat, but there were still a lot of shadows.

Dean took a few steps out onto the grass, signaling for Sam to stay put. With the gun leading the way, Dean crept around the backyard while Sam kept a look-out from the porch. He made it all the way around the yard without finding anything more than the knocked over trash can that had caused the noise.

He told Sam to follow him to the front and as the younger man played look-out again, Dean walked around looking for anything out of place. Finding nothing, they went back into the house.

"Maybe it was just a cat," Sam suggested.

"Maybe," Dean agreed. Adrenaline was coursing through his system and even though he hadn't found anything, he didn't really think the noise had been caused by an animal.

"Should we call Dad?"

Dean shook his head. "No, he's got enough to deal with. Let's just make sure the doors and windows are locked. I don't know if it will help, but we'll salt everything, too."

Sam nodded. He looked scared, but helped secure the house expertly. He leaned the gun against the table next to the couch before he sat down.

"You've still got some time before you have to be up for school," Dean said.

"Yeah, like I'm going to be able to sleep."

"The house is safe, Sammy. I'll stay awake and keep watch until Dad gets home."

Sam shook his head. "I had a nightmare earlier."

"I'm sorry," Dean sat next to him. "Why didn't you wake me up?"

Sam shrugged. "No big deal."

"Same dream? About the shooting?"

"No," Sam said quietly. "Toby and his dad."

"Sam, come on, dude. That's not your life."

"I know that. But…I just don't get it. Why would Toby go after the guy who was trying to help him and not the one who was hurting him? Dad said we'd probably never know the answer to that, but it's just bugging me."

"Dad's probably right," Dean said. "Who knows what was going on in Toby's head."

"I guess." He looked toward the front window when a pair of headlights hit the curtain. "Dad's home."

"What's going on?" John asked, concern evident, as he walked into the house. He looked at the salt on the floor as Aidan closed the door.

Dean told him about being awakened by the noise and then looking around the yard. "We haven't heard anything for about an hour. How did your night go?"

"Not much better," John said. "How ya doin', Sammy?"

"All right."

John sat in his chair. "Your alarm won't be going off for a while."

"I don't want to go back to sleep."

"Okay," John said, sounding tired. "How about breakfast then? You can think about staying home today, too."

Sam only nodded.

ooooo

"You sure about this, Sammy?" John asked as he pulled up in front of the school.

"Yes, sir"

"You can call if you want to come home early, okay?"

Sam nodded. "Thank you. There's a counseling session this afternoon. Dean said he'd pick me up after."

"Okay," John laid a hand on his shoulder. "Remember what I said, though. You can call if you want to come home."

Sam reached for the door handle, then paused and looked at his father. "Why?"

"Why what?"

"You usually push us to step up to responsibility. It's my responsibility to go to school, so why are you being so nice about it and saying I can come home early?"

"Because you're going through a lot. You and Dean had a scare last night and you didn't get much sleep. I just….I just want to make sure you're okay."

"I'm not," Sam said. "But I will be. And I have things I have to do today."

John smiled at him. "I guess I don't have to push you. You're already stepping up."

Sam thought about it for a moment, then returned the smile. "Yes, sir."

ooooo

"What really happened last night?" Dean asked Aidan over coffee.

"Toby's father is messed up, man. He didn't just abuse his own kid. You know that park off Edderson?"

"Oh, tell me you're kidding." Dean sounded disgusted.

"We kept an eye on him, looked out for the revenant. God, it was just….Lucky for us there was a raid last night. I don't know how much longer I could have just stood by."

Dean rubbed his face. "Ugh."

"Yeah."

"Did Rogers get arrested?"

"No. We thought he'd parked in the lot, but he'd driven through and his car was on the street on the other side. When he saw the cops, he ran off and got to his car."

"You and Dad got out okay, right?"

"Oh yeah. No problem there.'

"And no revenant?"

Aidan shook his head, taking a sip of his coffee.

"You think that's because it was here?"

"The noise you heard outside?"

Dean nodded.

"I don't know, Slick. Why would he be here?"

"He was here before. Well, on the street behind us," Dean nodded toward the back door. "We thought it was a ghost."

"Weird activity for a revenant," Aidan mused. "But I've heard of cases where they're protective of their loved ones, so maybe he was just checking on his team before getting down to business."

"You think he'd be pissed enough to go after Toby's dad like that?"

Aidan shrugged. "I didn't know the man, but if he'd been trying to help Toby and Toby's dad drove him to do what he did….Revenge can be a tricky thing."

They both looked toward the living room when the front door closed. John joined them at the table with his own cup of coffee.

"Boyden called," Aidan said to him. "He's in place."

"Who's Boyden?" Dean asked.

"Friend of mine," Aidan glanced at him. "He lives nearby and I gave him a call to see if he could help us out with some surveillance. He's watching Rogers' house for us now."

"You know…."

"You need to work," John said. "And I need you to keep Sammy occupied. I don't want him involved and if you are, I know he'll want to be. If this was any other local gig…."

Dean nodded. "Yeah. Yes, sir."

"Really, Dean, this is the best way you can help out."

He nodded again.

ooooo

Aidan was asleep on Dean's bed when his cell phone rang. He was exhausted and might not have heard it if it hadn't been right next to his ear. He grabbed it as he sat up. "Yeah?" His voice was gruff. He listened to the voice on the other end, becoming more alert. "Keep with him. We'll meet you as soon as we can."

As soon as the call ended, Aidan was yelling for John and they were out of the house in less than 20 minutes.

ooooo

John and Aidan met up with Boyden on a side street several miles away from the Rogers' house. Boyden had called Aidan several times with an updated location – the revenant had showed up at the house, coming out the front door.

"It hasn't been making it too hard for me to follow it," Boyden said, his voice thick with an accent John couldn't quite place. He assumed from his appearance that Boyden was from somewhere in the Caribbean, though he knew Aidan had met him in college. "Strange that, but I don't question good fortune. Assuming that's what it is. I tried to take it out a couple of times, but there were always too many people around."

"Where is it now?" John asked, looking around the business lined avenue.

Boyden nodded toward a spot down the street. "That's him sitting on that bench."

"What the….?" Aidan followed his friend's gaze.

"Where else has it been?"

Boyden shrugged and tuned his attention to John. "It's just been going street to street. Almost like he's been strolling. Weird thing, though, it made a stop at some garage."

John immediately felt cold. "What garage?"

"I don't know. I think it was on Grover, maybe?"

"Sonofa…." John reached for his cell phone, vaguely aware of Aidan's look toward him. He dialed Dean's number, cussing loudly when the call went to voicemail.

"That doesn't mean anything, John," Aidan said. "He's working."

John got the garage number from Information and paced until the phone was answered. A moment later, the manager was on the line. John listened with growing rage, his eyes trained on the revenant still sitting calmly down the street.

"Is Dean all right?" Aidan asked when John put the phone back into his pocket.

Instead of answering, John walked to the bed of his truck and unlocked the large toolbox. Under a false bottom was a selection of firearms, all ready to go to work. He chose something particularly dangerous looking and attached a scope to it.

"John, you can't –"

Before John could make any kind of a move, the revenant stood up. For a moment, it looked like it was going to charge the hunters, but with what almost looked like a friendly wave, it took off running in the opposite direction. The men tried to follow, but even with the mobility of Boyden's motorcycle, they quickly lost their target.

John left Aidan with Boyden and headed to the hospital. Dean's boss had told him there'd been an accident and Dean had been taken to the emergency room as a precaution. He'd been well enough to protest, but in the end, the manager had won.

"Dad, what are you doing here?" Dean asked when he saw is father rush toward him. The emergency room waiting area was relatively empty and it hadn't been hard for John to spot him.

"I got a call about the accident," John answered, noting the man in matching coveralls sitting next to Dean.

Dean made quick introductions, then turned his attention back to his father. John carefully held Dean's arm and moved the towel that he'd been holding over it. The sleeve of the coverall was shredded and the skin underneath didn't look much better. John saw a lot of surface damage, but there were also a couple of deep gashes that would require stitches. There was also a bruise already showing on his cheek.

"What happened?" he asked Dean.

"I was getting an air filter from a shelf and the whole thing just fell over on me. I can't even tell you what caused this." Dean nodded toward his arm.

"It looks pretty bad," John said, examining it even closer. "It must hurt like hell."

"It's all right."

John noticed his pale face and knew it wasn't _all right_. After some conversation, the other garage employee ended up going back to work and leaving Dean in the capable care of his father.

"I didn't want to come to the hospital," Dean told him. "But Peter's insurance…."

John nodded. "It's okay."

"I'm sorry Peter called you."

"He didn't, actually. He was about to when he got my call." John told Dean about the events of the day so far.

"The _revenant _did this to me?" Dean asked, incredulous.

"It seems that way. Aidan and Boyden are trying to get a handle on the thing, but it's in charge right now. Revenants have the same intelligence as the person did in life, not like zombies that are just dumb weapons. I don't understand why it's playing with us, though."

"Maybe going after Toby's father isn't all this is about," Dean suggested, resting his arm against his body. John knew he was in pain.

"Yeah."

"You think Sammy's safe at school?"

John had wondered that himself, deciding it was better for Sam to stay in a well populated place. "Probably safer there than elsewhere right now."

"Dad, you don't have to sit here with me. I don't know how long this is going to take."

"You'll need a ride home anyway. I don't know that it's productive to have one more person running around town looking for something we won't find until it wants to be found."

Dean looked at his father, but said nothing. It was nearly half an hour later when he was called for an examination.

ooooo

John Winchester was a lot of things, but patient was not one of them. He was already pacing ten minutes after Dean had been taken to an examining room. When it became clear that Dean would be gone for a while, he stepped outside and called Aidan.

"_Hey, John. How's Dean?"_

"He just got taken back, but he'll be fine. He needs some stitches, but I think that's the extent of it. What's going on there?"

"_No sign of the revenant. Boyden went back to the Rogers' place – bastard should be heading to work soon – and I'm in my car trying to be productive."_

"I may need you to pick Sammy up from school. I don't know how long this is gonna take."

"_Not a problem. Why don't I just plan on it?"_

John agreed, and told him where to find Sam. Before ending the call, they spent a few minutes discussing the day's events and possible meanings. It was a waste of time, though, since neither had ever heard of a revenant playing the games theirs seemed to be playing.

"_I'll call you when I have Sam," Aidan said before they hung up._

ooooo

Aidan could see how low Sam was as he emerged from the school. He walked with his head down, and his entire body seemed folded in on itself. Several boys came out at the same time, but one walked particularly close to Sam. Aidan assumed that was the friend he'd heard about.

Sam looked up and his expression turned immediately to concern when he saw Aidan's car. He spoke briefly to the boy next to him, then quickened his step.

"Where's Dean?" Sam asked when he opened the car door.

"He's all right, but there was an accident. Your friend want a ride home?"

"His mom is here," Sam slid into the car. "What kind of accident?"

Aidan saw no reason not to tell Sam everything, though in an abbreviated version that sounded much less dramatic than what John had portrayed to him. Sam's worry for his brother was clear.

"I told your dad I'd call when you were done with the session," Aidan said as he reached for his phone. "Why don't you do it?"

"Thanks." Sam took the phone and before John had even gotten a complete word out of his mouth, he was asking about Dean.

"_He's fine. We're headed home now."_

"Can I talk to Dean?"

"_Of course. Hold on."_

Sam heard his father and brother talking for a moment, but he couldn't understand what they were saying. He decided that it didn't matter; he'd see Dean for himself soon enough.

"_Hey, Sammy. How was school?"_

"Are you okay?" Sam ignored his brother's question.

"_I'm fine. Dad told you that."_

"I know, but –"

"_I needed a few stitches, that's all. Nothing I haven't had before. I only went to the hospital because my boss said I had to. Heck, you coulda stitched me up."_

"Yeah. Okay." Sam wasn't certain.

"_How was your session?"_

"It was okay. I don't really want to talk about it right now."

"_Hey, we're about to turn into the driveway. I'll see you in a couple minutes, okay?"_

"Okay." Sam handed the phone back to Aidan.

ooooo

At Dean's request, John ordered a couple pizzas for the crowd. Sam insisted that Dean get settled on the couch and no one thought to argue with him. Sam kept him company while John and Aidan made phone calls. Boyden had been keeping an eye on Glenn Rogers, but with the man at work, there wasn't much left for him to do but join the others at the Winchester house.

Once the food arrived, they all gathered in the living room.

"Okay," John said after giving everyone a chance to eat in peace for a few minutes. "I talked to a few contacts and got some information. From what's known about revenants, it's rare – but not entirely unheard of – for them to do things in kind of a roundabout way."

"What do you mean?" Sam asked.

"There are a few stories out there about revenants who….played with their prey before killing them. That might be what's going on here."

"I'm not sure it matters what it's up to," Boyden added. "I mean, isn't the goal here to get rid of it? I know we've been following this Rogers guy because that's most likely where we're going to find the revenant, but maybe we should just be focusing more effort on finding the thing."

"I think you're right," John said. He looked to Aidan.

"Sometimes revenants go back to their graves to rest – or whatever they need to do. Other times, they just chill in the woods or some other out of the way place. In some cases, they go back to familiar places."

"Like where they lived?" Dean asked.

Aidan nodded.

"So, we've been wasting time with Toby's dad," Sam wondered. "We should be looking at Coach's house?"

"I'm not sure we've been wasting our time so much as spinning our wheels," John said.

Aidan looked at Sam. "I stopped by the house to talk to the coach's wife again. I'd posed as a former student before, just coming by to pay my respects," he explained with a look at Boyden. "She liked me."

"Of course she did," Boyden's tone was sarcastic, but he had a small smile on his face.

Aidan gave him a dirty look that everyone in the room knew he didn't mean. "Anyway, I was there again today and she mentioned that she was going out of town for a few days. She was leaving this afternoon and no one will be in the house."

"So we can look around," Sam realized.

"Not all of us," John corrected with a stern look in his younger son's direction.

"Dad, more eyes – and weapons - are better. Besides, I've been to the house before and I know my way around it."

"When were you there?" John asked.

"The coach had a party for the team when practice first started."

"I don't want you involved with this, Sammy."

"I'm already involved, Dad. I was there when Coach was killed. I _saw _it."

"And it's giving you nightmares. What's going to happen if you see it happen again?"

"It hurt my brother," Sam said. "It's not my coach. Not any more. Besides, I'm supposed to be learning to be a hunter, right?"

John looked at Dean. John would make the final decision about Sam's involvement, but no one knew Sam better than Dean did. If he thought Sam could handle it, John trusted his judgment. He could see Dean was thinking about it, then he nodded.

"Okay," John said. "But there are gonna be some rules."

"Yes, sir." Sam didn't look exactly happy about his father's decision, but John knew it was important to him that he be included.

ooooo

"You sure you can do this with that arm?" John asked Dean later.

"Yes, sir. It doesn't hurt much."

John didn't believe him about the pain, but decided not to call him on it. "Okay. And you'll make sure Sammy sticks with you?"

"Of course."

John nodded as they continued to check over the weapons.

The closer to the time to leave, the more John regretted his decision to allow Sam's participation. He knew Sam was well trained and he knew he had a good head on his shoulders, but this job was a little too personal for him. On the one hand, John wanted Sam with him, but he knew the boy would respond better to Dean.

Sam told them everything he remembered about the back yard. There was a vegetable garden in one corner with a shed along side it. He thought the shed was large enough for someone to sleep in – or whatever revenants did. There was also a basement with an entrance on the outside.

Because it had rained the day of the party, the boys had also been inside the house. No one thought the creature would be hiding inside when Mrs. McGraff was still there, but now that the house was empty it was more of a possibility. Sam drew a rough diagram of what he recalled of the floor plan.

They took more than one vehicle, but parked away from the McGraff house and approached on foot from varying directions. The house was on an average-sized lot in a middle-class neighborhood. The only piece of luck was that the lot it backed up against was filled with trees and the back yard was surrounded by a tall privacy fence. The hunters would have their run of the property almost undetectable from the other houses.

With everyone else in the background, John and Aidan approached the shed. John could see enough detail in the semi-darkness to tell that it wasn't in the best of shape, but it was definitely large enough for someone – or something – to lie down in.

Aidan held a flashlight on the door while John pulled it open, weapon ready. A gun wouldn't kill the revenant if it was inside, but the bullet would slow it down. He was a little surprised that there was no lock on the door, but once he could see inside it was clear the building housed nothing of value. It also wasn't serving as current lodging for the revenant, though it was impossible to tell if it had been.

"Nothing," John said over his shoulder. He stepped inside and looked around more closely, but he found nothing helpful.

"Do we go inside the house?" Boyden asked.

John had been hoping to find the revenant on outside, but he wasn't against breaking into the house. After a brief discussion, they decided to go in through the basement entrance. It wasn't difficult to pick the padlock and, once again, John led the way.

Gun and flashlight leading the way, John descended the four steps and when he stood on the cement floor, he shone the light around him. Seeing nothing in the way of an immediate threat, he motioned for the others to follow him.

The basement was large and appeared to be used mostly for storage. Everyone moved off in a different direction, though Sam stayed closed to Dean. They had almost finished searching the entire area when a loud clatter was heard from upstairs.

John and Aidan headed up the narrow, steep staircase, but found the door at the top locked from the other side.

"Now what?" Aidan asked.

"There are other doors."

Boyden was ahead of them. He'd just gotten the kitchen door open when the group joined him.

"Going off on your own like that wasn't real smart," John said evenly.

"I was watching him," Dean said. "And Sam was watching me."

"Uh-huh. Next time, communicate."

"You're right. Sorry, Dad." Dean hung his head for a moment, but another loud noise came from inside the house and Boyden pushed the door open.

"Stay behind me," John said to his sons as the group began to file through the doorway.

Noise was heard from the second floor, sounding as if things were being tossed around. Boyden looked at him, and John nodded. They crept to the living room, knowing the stairs were in a corner of the room.

"You two stay down here," John said in a low voice. "We're not sure what this is and we might need a lookout."

John caught up to Aidan and Boyden on the stairs, but before they got to the top, something ran past them faster than they could see. It pushed them aside and John was lucky not to have been thrown to the floor.

He yelled to the boys and tried to get a shot at what had to be the revenant.

"Sammy! Dean!" he called, not seeing them in the living room.

"Kitchen!" Dean replied, sounding excited.

Before John could get to the next room, he heard Dean cry out, followed by a crash and then a gunshot. He felt sick as he pushed himself forward. What he saw when he got into the kitchen surprised him – Dean lay crumpled on the floor with the revenant lying near him, a bullet hole in his chest. Sam stood over the creature with the shotgun trained on the back of its head.

"He's my brother," Sam said, his eyes on the creature. "And he didn't do anything to you. Or to me."

John knew Sam wasn't trying to reason with the thing. At least he didn't think so. And before he could make any move, Sam shot it in the back of the head. One clean, perfect shot. Even from close range, it was impressive.

"Sammy," John said gently, seeing the gun shake in his son's hand. "You got him. Take a step back, okay?" John was vaguely aware of Aidan and Boyden behind him, but he concentrated on what was in front of him. "Sam."

Sam did as he was told. Almost. He stepped away from the revenant and went to his brother's side. He leaned the shotgun against the wall, out of reach of the creature even though it was obviously dead.

"I got this," Aidan told him, moving into John's field of vision. With Boyden's help, he carried the monster out of the house.

John knelt next to Sam, who was checking Dean for injury. Dean's eyes were open, but unfocused.

ooooo

"You sure he's okay?" Sam asked his father quietly.

"I'm in the room, Sammy," Dean said with a small laugh. "I can hear you."

"I'm not talking to you," Sam said with a good-natured sneer.

"He's fine," John assured Sam. The youngest Winchester walked all the way into the bedroom and sat on the edge of his bed. John put an arm around his shoulders. "What about you?"

"I'm all right," Sam said, sitting up straighter. He wasn't exactly okay; he still felt very shaky inside even though they'd been home for almost two hours.

Sam barely remembered shooting the revenant. He'd not even been aware that Aidan and Boyden had dragged it from the kitchen, only hearing about it after they'd told John they'd taken care of the body. He didn't know exactly what they'd done, but was sure it had involved fire.

All he was clear about what that Dean had been in danger. The revenant had run down the stairs, pushing the others out of its way. Sam had been behind Dean when the creature passed them on its way to the kitchen. Sam had been afraid it would crash through the back door, and Dean must have been thinking the same thing because he'd immediately taken off after it.

Sam had heard Dean cry out and the sound of him hitting the wall. Without thinking, he'd charged into the kitchen managing a quick shot at the revenant's chest. The bullet had hit its heart, dropping it to the floor. Even now Sam didn't think the second shot was necessary, but he'd had to make sure it couldn't hurt Dean more than it already had.

He looked at Dean now. He had a few more scrapes and bruises than he'd gotten at the garage and probably had a slight concussion from being slammed into the wall, but overall he seemed okay. Him getting into bed had been their father's idea. Dean's boss had left a message on the home answering machine that he wasn't supposed to come back to work until Monday, so he'd have a few days to recover.

Sam had never really seen Dean hurt before; at least not like he had been at the McGraff house. Their dad had come home injured from a hunt before, but Sam had never seen it happen. He never wanted to.

Sam saw his brother's curious look toward him and almost literally shook himself out of the reverie. He felt his father's arm around him more securely and made the conscious decision that he wasn't going to let what had happened get to him – including the shooting in the locker room. He'd talk about things, he'd deal with it all, but he wasn't going to let any of it get the best of him.

"You know, I still don't know why the thing came after me. Especially at the garage," Dean said.

"Sammy, what did you mean when you told the revenant that Dean hadn't done anything to you?" John asked.

Sam saw Dean's eyes dart toward their father before settling back on him. Sam didn't remember saying anything to the revenant, but he knew exactly what he'd meant. "Coach asked me if Dean ever hit me."

"What?" Dean exclaimed. "Are you kidding me?"

"Dean," John said quietly. Sam watched his brother lay back against his pillow, then he turned to look at their father. "Why would he ask you that, Sammy?"

"I had some bruises – I got them when Dean and I were sparring. I told Coach we'd just been messing around, but I guess he didn't believe me."

"Apparently not," Dean scoffed. I _told _you Sammy and I trained while you were gone, Dad."

"I'm sorry, Dean," Sam said.

He waved it off. 'It's not your fault. You told him."

"It's late," John said. "Sam, if you're going to school tomorrow, you should get into bed."

"Yes, sir."

His arm still around Sam, John rested his cheek against his head for a moment before standing up. He patted Dean's leg. "I'll see you two in the morning."

"Hey, Dad?" Sam called, twisting to look toward the door.

"Yeah?"

"What about Toby's dad?"

John didn't have a chance to respond before Aidan appeared behind him. "We don't have to worry about him."

John moved slightly so that Aidan could stand just inside the room. "What do you mean?"

"Boyden just called me." Aidan's friend lived less than an hour away and had decided to head home since the job was done. He'd been gone less than half an hour. "He ran by the Rogers' house on his way out of town."

"And?" John asked.

"Looks like the revenant got to him before we found it at the McGraff house. Boyden said there are cops, ambulances….The cops think it was a robbery gone bad."

"How bad?" Sam asked.

Aidan glanced at John.

"He's dead?" John guessed.

Aidan nodded. "Apparently a neighbor called the police when she heard some loud noises coming from his house. Boyden's gonna stick around for a little while, but he's probably found out all he needs to."

Sam met his father's eyes. He saw a variety of emotions pass over his face, finally ending with satisfaction. Sam felt the same way.

"Okay boys," John said with a look toward Aidan. "Sleep. I'll see you in the morning."

"'Night, guys," Aidan waved over his shoulder as he followed John out of the room.

Sam crawled under the covers of his bed and reached for the lamp. "G'night, Dean."

"G'night, Sammy." Once the light was off, Dean spoke again. "Hey, Sammy?"

"Yeah?"

"What you did at the coach's house? Thanks."

"You're welcome."

"I wish I coulda seen your first kill."

"I kinda don't remember it."

"You don't?"

"It was all just instinct, I guess."

"Good instinct, Dude. See what training will do for you?"

"Yeah," Sam said quietly.

"You okay? I mean, it was your first time and the thing had your coach's face. Dad talk to you?"

"Yeah, he did. I'm all right." Sam heard the sheets rustling in the next bed and he assumed Dean had turned over to face at him even though the room was dark.

"You sure, Sammy?"

"I….I'm okay. The thing wasn't my coach any more and it hurt you. I did what I had to do."

"I'm glad ya did, man."

"You're just lucky I was there."

"Don't get cocky," Dean warned with a good-natured laugh. "Go to sleep, kiddo."

"You, too." Sam rolled onto his back and stared at the dark ceiling. He wasn't lying about not remembering the details of what had happened at the coach's house, and in a way, he was glad that he didn't. He was just relieved he'd been able to do protect his brother and that his training had kicked in when he'd needed it.

He knew he would never enjoy the job the way his brother seemed to, but now he knew he could do it….at least until he found a way out of it altogether.

Sam didn't know how much time had passed when he heard Dean snoring lightly. He looked toward the bed. He saw only an indistinct lump in the darkness, but he felt happy knowing his brother was safe.

He turned over onto his stomach, wrapped his arms around his pillow and snuggled under the blanket. He was asleep a few minutes later.


End file.
